Letting Go of the Cup

Maybe it’s a guy thing, but I know of a few friends who can signpost their lives by major sporting events.

One of these guys can track the holidays of his youth with trips to various Olympics, and all the fun and frolics he’s had.

Another mate met his girlfriend at Wimbledon, eventually had his honeymoon with her there, and now goes back on family trips regularly.

The sporting event that has most aligned with my own personal life recently has been the Football World Cup.

Because it was on this day, 12 years ago, that my wife left me.

It was 1998, I had just left a job to start a new career, and I didn’t see the end of us coming at all. All rather foolish in retrospect because we had married young, had grown apart and had some very different expectations about our relationship. But like all first loves you tend to believe, even hope against hope that it will go on forever. Even while you neglect the every day realities of what is right in front of you.

That eternal myth was shattered for me that day, and I spent the next 2 weeks in a shabby hotel room in Manly watching the Cup. Distracting myself from the unthinkable. France won that year in a blaze of racially unified glory, but I remember little about it.

That may seem a rather bleak sporting association, but for me it’s not. Like any loss, it marks a turning point in a life, and the making of a new one.

It was time to play my own game and set different, personal goals. I finally started to take my career seriously, and found that I not only enjoyed advertising, but somewhat surprisingly it liked me back.

After a recovery period, I then dived back into friendships with people I had neglected during my marriage. I’m told guys do that most, focus on only their partner at the expense of others. So I enjoyed better relationships during this time, as well as the joys of hedonism, things I had never really explored as a young married guy. Suddenly, anything seemed possible.

I also re-discovered my own body in some ways. I have always loved sport but I found that through running and fitness and yoga that achieving a fit, healthy body was re-invigorating. Of course change in these circumstances is easy in some ways, because there is only forward. You are not in a team sport any more, there is only you to make it happen, and that is frightening and liberating all at the same time.

But it’s also addictive.

I remember well a colleague of mine who commented on my apparent renaissance, as I came back to work. Good old ‘Prince’ Caspian. He said be careful of your single life, “you’ll get used to it, and it’ll be hard to go back”. He was right of course. So focused you become on your own needs, development and goals that the focus on ‘me’ slowly, inexorably, replaces any thought of ‘we’.

Which is not to say I had given up on love. If the singles among us cannot be romantic, by hoping for love (or love again), who else is left to keep that flame going? But truth be told I was getting worse at sticking things out in relationships. Preferring perhaps to run, before the threat of being pushed away again.

So by the time of World Cup 2002 in Japan and Korea, I remember ending my relationship with the wonderful Stephanie. She said she just couldn’t crack through to find me. Like Korea in that Cup I had tried valiantly but fallen well short of the final effort. A good effort but lacking in the skills, desire or willpower to make it all the way.

Move forward 4 years later and I could contrast 2 moments of the 2006 World Cup Campaign with my own relationship program. First there was the qualification of the Australian team for the first time in many years, after coming agonizingly close so often. I remember my girlfriend Bev and I, jumping up and down on the couch after the winning penalty kick, on our way as well, it seemed. And then by the time of the World Cup Finals only 6 months later, there I was again having slipped (fallen/jumped) back to my single life.

I had convincingly told myself that Bev and I were not right for each other, and really we weren’t meant to be. But something inside me knew that I had not truly committed myself to the team game again. I had lost some of the nerve to keep fighting for coupledom.

Looking back now over these years, I’ve no doubt that as the World Cups loomed, it re-enforced this new game plan in my mind. The memory of those dark days was enough to make me want to pull the chord for another solo jump. It’s quite a painful and sad realization.

But perhaps World Cup South Africa 2010 marks the beginning of a different era.

It’s a decent life I’ve re-built in these last 12 years. And I am acutely aware of the danger of idealizing marriage or relationships. It would be easy to play the referendum game (read the linked article, it’s brilliant), comparing myself to my contemporaries and wishfully thinking things would be better if I had what they had. There is so much to be grateful for and happy about in this life now.

But at some point, the losses of the past need to be buried. And we all need to score more than points for ourselves. This single player, having exhausted all his moves and with perhaps his best matches behind him, is tired of that narrow game plan.

Like the ageing footballer approaching retirement, the playbook is full and there are enough crafty moves to keep going. But you start to glimpse a life beyond the game, and think of bigger things.

That’s what this tournament means to me. Just football. Just moving forward.

Enjoy your World Cup. I plan to remember this one for the right reasons.

Cheers, Rob

Wander Lust

In Memoirs of My Melancholy Whores, writer Garcia- Marquez’ main character muses that, “sex is the consolation for those without love”. Lust and its remains are what we have when there’s no romance to set our hearts on.

But what about other types of lust, such as the seemingly insatiable desire for travel and discovery – the pursuit of the next great adventure? It perhaps begs the question, is travel then the consolation for those without a home?

I was watching the film Into the Wild recently, about one man’s adventure trying to break away completely, and I thought about my own travels. At some point when living far away from home you’ve got to ask why you do what you do, what drives you on? And when is enough enough. Or is it never enough?

Wanderlust, although incubated as a child growing up overseas, truly began for me as the search for a better job and a different life. Nearly every move I’ve made has been because of work – at least consciously. If you’re from a smaller place and you want to advance your career beyond a limited number of choices, it means heading to the big smoke. It’s also a world of different ideas, a wider spectrum of thought and experiences. Not necessarily better, but definitely different. You see more, experience more and hopefully learn more. And working in another place is a great place to start.

And then there is the possibility of discovery.

Personally I never really wanted to travel and live in America or Europe – but Asia always fascinated me. Perhaps it was because I grew up in Canada, went to school in the US and had visited Europe with my parents a few times as a child – so the idea living there never inspired me. What stands out in my childhood memories are my father’s visits to China and Japan, and all the weird and wonderful things he brought back from there. Completely different from all I was or all I’d known.

One of the first travel writers was the great Greek historian and story teller Herodotus. 2500 years ago he wrote concerning the nature of the political world of his time and his musings on sciences and the natural world. He was arguably the first historian, and certainly the first to methodically travel around the known world in order to write about it. But as he admitted, much of this travel was for personal reasons. “All men’s gains are the fruit of venturing” he wrote.

I wanted to live in a place where I knew nothing and could venture everything. To be immersed in difference and to try and understand that, for its own sake. Even to this day as I sit and write this, I will finish up then walk out my door this afternoon and visit a new part of Bangkok, perhaps see a new gallery or restaurant, maybe meet someone new and perhaps even have a life changing moment.

The Byzantine monk Mochos said that the power of travel is to see life through new eyes – to awaken your senses to the beauty and diversity of life – and that seems to happen more easily away from the familiar. New food, cultures, people, language and customs. But then many of the early travelers such as Mochos also had the desire to move away from his fellow religious cohorts and move beyond the sobriety of a cloistered existence.

There is discovery and self-discovery, and then there is escape. Freud being Freud put it his way. “A great part of the pleasure of travel lies in the fulfillment of early wishes to escape the family and especially the father”

But surely it’s not just the father we escape from.

For someone like me moving away gives you chance to move away from people who already know you and have you all worked out. Most of us are a work in progress, but family and friends, particularly a smaller place, have a way of defining you that is hard to move on from. Sometimes, some of us, need to go away to break away. To have the chance to define yourself anew. To not be confined by a school or a class or a system – but to live forwards for a while. To live that every day is an exciting existence - whether you are backpacking, on an extended holiday or working overseas indefinitely.

To be surrounded by all that is new and different, to indulge the realm of you senses, to always be indefinable. There is much to be gained from a new place, if you are open to it, it can teach us about the common human truths among all of us.

But one of those truths is, ultimately, that we are all looking for belonging. You learn that home is not where you’re born, but where you are accepted for who you are. Being different is cool if you are celebrated for that, but becoming addicted to difference is like the lover who cannot get beyond the sensual allure of sexual conquest. At some point if you want more, you need to stick around to get under their skin.

Changing for the next hit is just a way of avoiding living day to day with the harder, and perhaps more rewarding, stuff of life. But for the travel bitten, fighting against the urge just to keep moving on and create a new thrill can be the hardest thing.

Many fellow travelers find belonging away from their homelands – and make a new home. Others keep on moving, hoping to find that place the next time around. Still others will go back to what is more familiar and known.

I don’t know where I will end up, but these days there is little excitement in just moving on. Wander Lust may seem like a constantly renewable energy, but its flame seems less bright and its rewards more fleeting these days. And the attraction staying in one place and calling it home seems real to me.

In the famous quote by John Burroughs, an essayist and naturalist who was on the road for many years, he says that: “Travel and society polish one, but a rolling stone gathers no moss.”
Yes you can be eternally new, and fresh and smooth. But few realize he finished this sentiment by saying “and a little moss is a good thing on a man.”

I guess I just need to stop long enough to find that out for myself.

Selling Friends

Last week I went along to a private party in Bangkok that was unlike anything I’ve been to. It was held at a new swanky night club and was hosted by the local head of Herbal Life.
Now for those who don’t know what Herbal Life is – and I didn’t before I went – it’s a global personal-selling organisation like Amway. The wikipedia description is “an independent distributor selling personal care and nutritional products”. And depending on who you talk to it can either be a dangerous pyramid selling operation (outlawed in some countries) or an entrepreneurial enterprise offering anyone who works hard enough with a pathway to wealth and success.

Every month this guy invites about 1,000 people to this all expenses paid extravaganza – complete with free booze, celebrities and even a car giveaway. But far from being a wanker, this guy’s apparently very hard working and also incredibly nice to everyone who he knows.
But then as my mate Bo reminded me, being nice is his job.

At the moment I’m writing a book about the amount of commercial messages we all deal with, and the need to fight hard to create what I call neutral time - personal time to do what’s important for you.

One of the chapters is on the idea of ‘selling friends’. That is, as we become more skeptical of marketing and our media habits are more fragmented, friendship has started to become a renewed marketing battleground. And for a company nowadays finding it harder to sell through traditional media, what better way to sell then through someone your customers know and trust – your friends.

It certainly makes sense to the Amways or Herbal Life’s of the world. And they are not alone. Most of the clients I work for are working hard to take advantage of the social networks within their customers’ lives. Whether it’s a friend get friend promotion, a bonus offer for providing your mate’s email or setting up a product profile on Facebook – they’re all doing it. And many believe it makes perfect selling sense.

But, on a personal (and professional) level, it makes very little sense to me.

I mean what do you really think when a friend or family member tries to sell you an Amway product? Or your email address gets given away by a friend for a promotion they entered? And how about when you get added by a Myspace ‘friend’ who just wants sell you something?

For me it’s a complete turn off – both of the friend and the product. In my world, and I’m betting in yours too, our friends are not always ‘nice’. They’re often loud, smell bad and late – but they do have give us something we need. They provide a degree of trust and honesty; and least enough to tell it like it is.

In end, they are the antithesis of the sell.

If the rise in email, social networks and the online marketing that goes with it has taught me anything, it’s that friendships now have never being easier to create or maintain. A few key strokes or touch of a button is all it can take. But the flip side to that is that we could be creating an environment when people can turn off just as easily.

In an age where friendship becomes so replaceable, when you trade them in for embedded sales people, then I guess you might as well except your life has become a 24x7 supermarket where you are the commodity and the till is always ringing

I once sent a friend’s email to a company in exchange for a free t-shirt, and he was quite rightly pissed off. ‘Was the t-shirt worth it?’ he asked in an email. Fair question. And when I sat at that Bangkok party the other night and realised that half the people invited were friends of members who purpose were there to experience the glorious opportunities of the Herbal Life, I wonder what those friends thought? I wonder, in the end, whether they felt a little used and abused? A little less like a friend.

I think one of the things that defines a friendship these days is how well you respect their neutral time – their non-commercial space. This is not a question of what friends are more real than others, we all have varying level of intimacy with different people. It is simply an acceptance that now more than ever we need space away from the 24/7 sell, to be with people who provide us with a bit of a break from the infotainment bombardment.

So here’s what I reckon. Fuck Amway, forget the networking party and go hook up with your flatulent friends. The only thing you’ll get out of it is a piece of sanity, but that’s gotta be worth something.

The Spirit of Things

A colleague lost her father to cancer last week, and as is the custom here I went to the funeral. It was a sad but interesting event for me. Can I say that? Because in truth, it was one of the more enlightening events I’ve been to in Bangkok. I sat next to a junior in my team who was able to explain, over the 2 hours the Thai Buddhist ceremony, his own experience as a monk and student of Buddha. (Everyone talked and carried on and ate and ran amok during the evening – it was not a very solemn affair)

From what I’ve seen of Buddhism here, it’s is quite different from the Japanese variety I experienced. In Tokyo most people only deal with Buddha in the same way Aussies experience God – as the BIG GUY who rates the occasional mention at a birth, a funeral or a national holiday. In Bangkok, Buddha is weaved much more tightly into the fabric of their daily lives. People wai when walking past a shrine, at least one male in the family becomes a monk for a while, and the constant annual holidays and festivals (I’m not complaining) are centered around temple visits and following the ‘right’ path.

My colleague Karn explained there were 8 simple rules for following this path that devout Thais adhere to, and although few would follow the all, he does. They revolved around doing the ‘right thing’ – at work, with family, eating and drinking etc. But for him, what was important were the 3 guiding principles behind these rules; impermanence, mindfulness and samsara.

Impermanence was the point of the funeral ceremony, a reminder that life is short and that all things change and die. It’s especially pertinent for Thais because of their belief in re-incarnation and the cycle of death and re-birth – where the only thing we take into the next life is our unconscious knowledge and experience of the right Buddhist path. To not follow that path is to be condemned to an endless cycle and no nirvana.

That’s where mindfulness comes in. Mindfulness is the constant awareness, moment by moment, of your existence and your actions. It’s one of the central themes of mediation – which is something that most Thais I know either practice or have had a crack at. Some say it’s the reason Thais retain their composure so well, others say they just like sleeping a lot and this is the closest they get to doing it during the day, but either way it’s a big thing here. I’m sure I’ll get away on a meditation weekend with my colleagues soon. Or maybe I’ll just head to the pub again, we’ll see.

The last principle Karn talked about was Samsara; the frustration of constantly wanting things and never being satisfied. He actually talked about his time as a monk – and about his youth in a heavy metal band and the drug & alcohol problems led him there. Hard to believe this clean-cut 24yr old had been through so much, but here he was having been to hell and back describing how Buddha helped ease the need to have it all, before it was too late. It was pretty cool, although kind of ironic that you had two guys in advertising talking about the virtues of not wanting stuff. Our new ad was out for Heineken the next day, so not sure how much Karmic merit we were going to get from Buddha for that.

Anyway, all sounds very worthy I know, but the conversation turned to some pretty creepy stuff as well. Thais as it turns out, with their belief in re-incarnation, are also big believers in ghosts. And everyone has a story – including Karn.

Last year he had gotten up from his house to get some food at night (He lives with his mum and brother.) He’s in the kitchen and this young guy walks right by him and brushes his neck. Karn thought he was his brother’s mate, but when ‘the mate’ walked out he went out straight through the wall. (Yeah right, just like the Dulux paint ad. Sad, but that’s what I thought) Anyway, he freaked out and next day his mum got the local shrine maker to come and build a small spirit shrine in the backyard to appease the ghost. Most houses have them here.

The mother didn’t say anything about the ghost to the shrine maker. But after the workman finished he told Karn’s mum that the young male spirit said for Karn not to worry, that he had scared the ghost shitless, and to leave him some food next time! Maaan, hearing ghost stories at a funeral gives me the creeps. But no sooner had he told this tale from the crypt then everyone started to tell their own ghost story, and before I knew it the service was over.

A bizarre and interesting evening. And just so you know as I went to bed that night, I accidentally left the bathroom light on.

The King & I

You may not be aware that I live in a country run by a military junta that is going through an enormous time of turmoil – if not militant uprising – as it struggles to find a way back to democracy. Legal and constitutional battles are continual, as are small street protests and the constant threat of social unrest. It seems at times the only thing that unites people is there love for their King, and the belief that somehow he’ll guide them back to the middle way.

And given is his power and influence - he might just pull it off. King Rama IX has ruled Thailand for 62 years – and has clearly been the most influential person in recent Thai history. He’s a pretty amazing guy – became king at 18, had a stint as a monk, got a PHD from a US college, speaks 5 languages, and plays a number of musical instruments. But above all he has been the voice of reason – the moderate peace maker - as the country has struggled for decades to maintain democracy in a region where, by necessity, the military has always had a very strong influence.

Perhaps most importantly he is seen as the voice of the poor – championing causes such as health and welfare, education, sanitation and his latest focus - environmental sustainability.

The King has always had a visible presence here – in every shop and home you’ll find his picture, his image decorates most major monuments, and before every film people stand up and listen to the god awful royal anthem and see his somewhat frail but smiling image. If that all sounds a bit Orwellian, consider that in this the year of his 80th Birthday, every Monday most Bangkokers wear yellow shirts to celebrate that he was born on a Monday. It’s like everyone is heading for the same nightmare private school where canary yellow is the uniform of choice. Given that I have neither love nor respect for ‘my’ queen, it’s not easy to accept this love at face value.

Increasing my skepticism is that any criticism of the king is forbidden. Like the Swiss guy in February who was sentenced to 10 years in a Pattaya jail for getting drunk and drawing graffiti on the King’s picture. I know, a dickhead, but 10 years?? The King pardoned him, and that only added to his esteem in the eyes of the people. In another infamous incident 2 months ago, a site on YouTube made his face look like a monkey. The YouTube site has been banned, completely, ever since. Not great for my work and that of my clients, who often use this site for viral marketing campaigns.

This sort of heavy handedness begs the question – is it real love or obligation? Is this ‘love for our beloved king’ (a very common expression) about pretence and showing what a loyal Thai you are to other people, or is it genuine affection for the man?

I think the answer lies in looking at people’s attitude to the rest of the royal family. Like the UK Royals – the spawn are an absolute nightmare. The crown prince here is seen as a playboy who spends his time in brothels and dodgy business dealings, and the rest of the clan don’t seem to fair too much better. In fact most people are afraid of the day when the prince could become King, and are hoping that fate or providence will intervene. While he provides endless fodder for the tabloids - most people just don’t like him.

And I like that.

It proves to me Thais don’t love the royal institution for its own sake – some of them are actually despised. Particularly those who abuse their position. As for the King, he is the one man who has provided them with a constant hope and direction in turbulent times.

You may remember Yul Brenner, in the movie the King & I, as a Siam King struggling to learn the values of a civilized society from his western teacher. A quaint and typically oriental fairy tale, on how the west always sets the right example. Perhaps in a new version, we can have the Thai king educating western royals on how the way to a country’s heart is through working his guts out to help as many people as possible, and avoiding war the process. It may not sell papers, but perhaps it might help save a few jaded monarchies. Not that I really want them saved.

But this guy is the real deal, so long live this king. Just don’t ask me to wear neon yellow on a Monday.

One great thing

A week or so ago I had went back to Oz to visit my old uni buddies.

Yep we’re all starting to grow hair in all the wrong places, so to commiserate we traveled from far and wide to catch up and no doubt dribble on about our former glories. We even had a name for the get together which adorned our stubby holders and ski caps: “Roaring Days - Forty, fat and full of it.”

That pretty well sums it up.10 guys who’ve been my friends for over 20 years bunkered down to watch some footy games and get a bit drunk. Then we went to lunch – and got a bit more drunk. Then we went skiing for a few days and realized that the footy weekend was not a great preparation for the slopes – but we got drunk again anyway while we tried to manage our pain.

I also tried to deal with the realization that I was better skier when I was 10 then I am now. Ouch.

Anyway, the point is I was a little bit hesitant about the get together. Don’t know about you but I’ve never been too big on re-unions. The whole idea of a ‘how big is your dick?’ contest doesn’t appeal much – especially when my own rather meandering life has left me with little more in the bank then a bunch of life experiences in strange lands. Rather intangible things when stacked up against investment properties and mutual funds.

The other realization is that as I approach 40, I’m single again with no prospect of that changing any time soon. Here I am at an age when most guys are considering what high school to send their kids too - and I’m still heading off on dates with girls that weren’t even born when I was at high school. It all seems a bit self-indulgent sometimes, especially when you look at the effort my mates put into their families.

Well I needn’t have worried too much about these blokes. While there were plenty of oversized egos – lots of beer and bravado – but what was more notable for me were the frank admissions of things gone wrong, the inner demons laid bare, and even a sobering cancer survival story.

Not much chest beating at all, which in the end says a lot. You get to an age where what matters most, to you and to them, is whether you’re happy with your lot.

Usually we’re our own harshest critics, so facing up to your friends usually just means facing up to yourself – warts (and bad hair) and all. But after a fun week, I did have a one insight in beyond my own mid-life navel gazing. It was pretty clear to me that the most of us had something important driving our lives.

While it may sound straight out of a self help book, I think the old adage of ‘find something you’re good at and find something you love doing’ seems to stack up. One to keep you with a roof over your head, the other to keep your motor running. And while bragging rights often go the former – it’s the latter that seems to make people fire up.

Rarely does advertising rise above irrelevance these days, especially when looking at the bigger questions in life, but there is a campaign I’ve been a part of for Johhnie Walker that sums up the sentiment pretty well. (Yes I know, from an alcohol company, but go with me on this one). In the ad an Android talks about how our future, our human lives, can be defined by doing one great thing.

Now that one thing might be raising a family, taking up painting or lowering your handicap – it’s different for everyone. For me it will be getting my book published, and perhaps writing a few more. I guess it’s an ambition that elevates a sometimes meaningless life above the inevitable setbacks we all go through. Something, as I said, that gets you going in the morning.

Apart from that, I guess I’ve realized after the trip that I’d like to settle down again.

That will be a relief to some I think - given that the idea of me dating well into my forties is as scary to my mates as it is to me. Because apparently if I’m single and there are teenage daughters about, I might be banned from future family oriented re-unions.

A sobering warning I reckon. Don’t worry guys, I’m working on it.

Indian Wedding

A few weeks ago I went to a Rowena and Dhruv’s wedding in Delhi. It was an amazing trip for me as I’d never been to India or an Indian wedding – and having a close friend to experience her big day there – it was a chance I couldn’t miss. Besides if you’ve ever seen ‘Monsoon Wedding’, how could you miss that?

Like most Indian weddings the festivities took place over four or five days. The different ceremonies, the food, the dancing – it was like being a part of a fairytale. The ceremony itself was, as one the oldest aunts told me, a transition of the bride passing over inexorably into the groom’s family. (She was the wildest aunt I’ve ever met. Over 70 and easily the best dancer and the one who made sure everyone was up and having fun and enjoying themselves – and none of it alcohol induced). Some might say marriage is the husband then passing over his rights inexorably to his wife – but that would be the cynic in me, and weddings aren’t a time for cynicism.

The first ceremony started with a reading of the Hindu scriptures and passed through various ceremonies of farewell, cleansing, acceptance and betrothal. I won’t pretend to have understood half of what was going on but it was clear to me that in all of the occasions there was an absolute harmony between honoring the ceremony and their significance – balanced having fun and enjoying the moment without getting too worried with formalities.

There were incredible saris, loads of jewelry, the intricate detail of different rites – and while there was meaning for everyone in all of this – everyone had their own version of what that meaning meant! And while all this ceremony was going on people chatted away merrily, came and went, children ran around and there was a carnival atmosphere. And at the end, and sometimes even at the beginning, there was dancing and music.

The Australian friends and family who were there were all blown away by the generosity and hospitality of the groom’s family. And I was particularly lucky because as Rowena’s honary brother I got to participate and be a part of the main ceremony – so I really felt a part of the occasion.

What is it about weddings that seem to bring out the best in people? Maybe it’s a re-confirmation that love is still important. For us singles I think weddings give us hope that love still exists, that people still find it, and so can we. Even for those up for a second time around. Of course it’s also often a chance to hook up with other romantic souls! But that was never on the cards in India - but at the end of the night, or even after four days of ceremonies and tears and too much dancing and food, no one was complaining.

And what of India? Well I can only speak of Delhi, and a rather well off Delhi at that, but I loved it. It was not at all what I expected, but it was also completely different from a lot of Asia that I experienced. In particular I had an experience at The Taj Mahal that was quite surreal.

I said in an email to a friend recently that the palace itself was lovely but it was more the overall experience and my reaction to it that made it special. It's kind of hard to explain but in my mind I've often had for many years a dream/vision of a scene where I am sitting meditatively under a tree, on a hill with the sun on my face and a gentle breeze blowing, and a stream flowing down below. I guess it's a vision that always puts me at ease - whether it's a past life or just a scene I've made up to make life easier sometimes or maybe it's something I will one day experience - I don't know. That day my trip to Agra felt like that kind of experience - the air or the weather there or the breeze or the calmness I felt was like experiencing that scene all over again. Kind of trippy and difficult to explain - but there you go.

Sounds like the typical westerner talking about his “spiritual home" and all that guff but there was something very familiar about it - a calmness of the mind that was exactly the tonic I needed after the madness of Bangkok. Next stop nirvana right? Well maybe not, but I would love to get to India again some time soon.

Congrats Row, a fantastic wedding, a great family and an amazing trip.