a work in progress

Category: Travel (Page 1 of 4)

My Boys

I’m here.

Miles away from my boys.
My man and my son.

The cheeks that brush mine so often.
The arms that spread wide open to engulf me.

My man.
The wise counsel at night when I’m restless and anxious.

My son.
The abundant love that never doubts me.

The two of them.
Fill my world.
On most days.

Being without them makes me feel like I’m walking around without a pair of my limbs.
I don’t know why the credit card account is blocked.
I don’t know when lunch time has passed.
I don’t know how to find the strength to fill a day with more fabric talk.

And I long.
For each of them.

Each hug filling my insides.

That said.

I grow stronger each passing moment.
I learn about export duties.
I know how to send a firm “no” non-verbally at a harassing taxi driver.
I smile at receptionists and I know they find the magic in my smile,
A magic I thought I’d lost long ago.
I realise I’ve paid double per metre than I needed to.
I am pampered by others in my life, I usually care not to notice.

The mother coming home to Aru is anew.
The wife coming to V is anew.

The learning is in the risk you take.
The growth is in the leap you rise to.
When you feel pain, there is some kind of personal journey happening right there.
So don’t run.

Feel it anyway.
The only way out.
Is through.


Throw your hands up (in the air)

Somedays it seems you’ve just got to let go.

Not give up, but give in.

To what the universe is deciding for you.

Making the battle easier.

By accepting.

What is in your hands.

And what isn’t.



How To Dream

If you are to dream, Don’t do it cautiously. 

Or hesitantly. 

Or steadily even. 
Dream irrationally. 



And with abandon. 
Because that my friend, 

Is how one ought to dream. 

Comparing Numbers

When I was in Paris, there was a woman on the trip who was significantly wealthy.

Hermes bag, Dolce sunnies, gorgeous and super wealthy.

One day, her and I shared an uber together.

Whilst we were sitting in the car, V called me to discuss the return flight him.

I only wanted to upgrade if we had points. I didn’t see it worthwhile to upgrade for a solo flight and pay cash. Especially if it was over a certain threshold.

A part of me felt embarrassed to be discussing lean finances whilst someone so wealthy could overhear it.

I ended the conversation rapidly.

She smiled at me. She said it was great that I had such a clear idea of money and where it was best spent.

I will never forget that.

It made me stronger and clearer about my financial choices.

Not embarrassed about being true to what is and what isn’t.



Who could you be without the framework?

In those 10 days in Paris I saw a glimpse of whom I once was.
And whom I am yet to become again.
Just this time as a wife and a mum.

Note to self.

You are not here to seek the attention and friendship of another.
You’re here to revel.
Take delight.

You aren’t here to pass a test of worthiness.
Because you are worthy to the people who are right for you.


Blessing & Curses and Karmic Balance

Could it be possible that I love you more today than I did last year?
I’m in Paris. For 10 days. Alone. Without you.
But everywhere I go, I find thoughts of you.
Every little toddler with a dawdling walk, a troubled cry, a quest to stuff his face with hot chips. I see you.

And of course.
Of course.
It’s easier without you.
I don’t have a routine running through my head most moments of the day.
I don’t have to compromise on the things I’d like to delight in because of you.
Don’t even get me started with prams and access.
It is so so so much easier.

But the funny thing is.
I’d say easier doesn’t necessarily mean happier.

I want to stroke my fingers through your hair.
Rub your back and sneak my fingers through your t-shirt.
I want to massage your chubby legs and say, “Oh my handsome”.
I want to watch you delight in toddler pools and trampolines.
Watch you delight in more than half of my pain au chocolat.

I know now.
Missing you is the only karmic balance for being away from you.
And that is ok.
It’s all part of the deal.



Last year, V and I made a pact.
Every year, each of us could travel anywhere we wanted, alone, for 10 days.
Not for work.
Not for family.
Just for me.
Just for him.

We’d be apart and the person staying behind would manage Aru solo (or with family help if it was available).

Earlier this year, I opened my inbox and found an email from The School.
It was for a 5 day trip to Paris.
5 days of visual heaven.
I think reading about Paris’ oldest art store was the bit that got me.
And croissants.

I was nervous.
Somehow, I just knew, this was it.
But gosh.
The money.

I tentatively approached V.
To back up my arguments, I was ready to work my butt off with consulting work so I wouldn’t be arguing for the money factor.
His only question was how we’d manage Aru.
But he said yes.

And now.
Paris is around the corner.
I’m so much more nervous.
I mean, what if every one is super visual and knows the names of all those famous people who you should already know about but you don’t?
And what if my gold kicks are a faux pa?
And what if my clothes aren’t just right?
Travelling with the sleekest of interiors people is beginning to feel so, so, daunting.
I know all these things don’t really matter.
At the end of the day, it’s about inner swag.



I’ll keep you posted!




Travelling Solo in a Group

Travelling alone has brought a sense of loneliness with it. The same feeling that lets you travel at your own pace, take in your choice of delights and sit basking in a peaceful solitude also makes you unravel. 

Reminds you that if you fall, who will catch you? 

If you’re unwell, who will love you tenderly? 

If there is a joy to share, how will another possibly feel it? 
It’s been odd, this Paris trip. Especially as I’m at the start perhaps. 

Not yet familiar enough to ask for a hug, solo enough to sit alone within a group. 



I’m in NY and I’ve had this overwhelming sense of FOMO in the last couple of days.
I don’t want to miss a thing.
But guess what.
NY is full of a bajillion things.
And it hurts so bad.
Plus I have a son.
Who needs a day time nap and has to be in bed by 7pm.
Plus it takes half an hour to get anywhere to somewhere decent.
So the restaurants. The MOMA. The DUMBO. The Highline. The shopping.
Dear God, the shopping.
Nothing is enough.
And yesterday, I thought to myself.
This is insane.
This feeling is never going to end.
You think it might end when you dash into COS, grab 3 dresses, wait in line to try them for 15 minutes and then wait another 10 to pay.
But you’re still not satisfied.
Because you are in FOMO state of mind.
In this state of mind, you cannot conquer jack shit.
You actually end up wasting your time on the less substantial.
Simmering in unhappiness.
Let the city go.
Walk where your heart leads and time ensues.
I’m going to stop trying so hard.
And start enjoying NY.

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