13. April 2017 by Swiss
Let’s make it a thing. A yearly trip and them stories.
There is no denying of the fact that my last blogpost was posted a solid 2 months ago. It’s a logical conclusion I must say, considering I swirled around with 45 kids from the ages of 5 to 19 in a seven-day skicamp, suriviving carneval in an intense mentally deranged condition, leading directly to a 24h nightshift which made it almost impossible for me to keep track of my own person, much less of the things I said – alas, I preferred to keep my mouth shut for an exceptional case. Laughably unthinkable, I know, but see, I made it.
Simultaneously, I finished the CrossFit Games Open and drank two glasses of cooled white wine every night. Winning – and I don’t mean the competition, but contentment.
In an attempt to get in line with mental clarity again, my gypsy soul sent me clear – if not inappropriate – signals that I must board a plane and fly away. Smell the ocean breeze, walk in the sand, smile at the sun and get lost in time and space. And so I did – shortly thereafter, I walked into the airport building, loaded compactly like a snail. A litany of name-calling profanities escaped my lips though, when I realised that I had forgotten all (I am a proud owner of a few – or maybe more like a myriad – bikinis) my afforementioned bathing suits.
Can’t buy me love, but can buy me bikinis. Preferrably online, even before passing security. I’m not emotionally equipped to deal with a mundane collection of fashion. I am greedy, superficial and obsessed when it comes to that area, so not having the appropriate outfit for the beach made me gasp. Also, I now know which cities in the world represent Maaji Swimwear. Represent, represent.
PS. I own four new bikinis since that trip. My obsession knows no bounds and one could feed the entire population of Sydney, assuming you could turn my obsession into food.
As serendipitious as I was, not much embarrassement crossed my path in these three weeks, except a significant predicament which triggered the wish to have a superpower like going invisible. I want you to imagine, you sit in the back of a bus, relaxing, thinking of nothing, when all of a sudden the door of the toilet flies open and a tatooed, blonde princess flies out and crashes on to the bus floor, lying there like a bug on its back if you know what I mean. Nope, she’s not naked, she’s fully dressed – nonetheless this doesn’t make this vexed, less than flattering situation any better.
In all honesty people, flying out of a toilet in a driving bus wasn’t on my list yet. Now it is. The only downside here is that no boomerang video of this happening exists. I guess I would have crashed Social Media for good. Insert wheeping here and pass me a libation.
On the flip side of crawling around in buses, panicking over the lack of clothes and trying to escape the intense sounds of chinese language on the plane (I chose Cathay Pacific as my airline this time. Sigh.) – I had an amazing time surrounded by my far away besties, new friends and funny strangers. The blissful unpredictability of these trips make me feel all sorta hormonal and I don’t mean this in a sexual way. Ok, maybe I do, yet I was trying to make a point on endorphins. Ok, that’s sexual too. How can I avoid the sexual innuendo here? Don’t answer that. It’s obvious. I mean the sexual part is an entirely plausible scenario if you are a lonely blonde traveller – though I must admit my borderline inappropriate relationship for the moment focuses on my camera and I guard it jealously. Plus, my original point here was that I love traveling because of all it’s unknowable surprises and exciting adventures. NO sexual pun intended.
Next trip coming up – and I swear I am going to say something of substance instead of talking about sex or toilets. Especially not in that combination.