Sunday, November 23, 2014

IT'S NOT ABOUT NEED


With the holiday season and the infamous black Friday shopping day almost upon us,  I am publishing a piece written several years before "Biker Chick Gone Crazy" was established.   While I took some creative liberties, the story is true.  

  

IT'S NOT ABOUT NEED

     When I saw the sign posted in the upscale store window, I put on the brakes and stopped to take a look at the colorful poster that read:  Shoe and handbag sale 30-50% off.   

     As I walked through the front door, a well-dressed woman greeted me with a big smile, as her eyes took in my casual style. Based on my attire -- flip flops, rolled up khaki pants, and a well-worn tee -- I'm sure she thought I was in the wrong store.  

     I wandered over to the designer shoes on sale: Manolo Blanik, Taryn Rose, Donald Pliner, Stuart Weitzman, and more.  Some were clunky, chunky, and others so pointy you could use them as a weapon, if you had to.  Other leather shoes were embellished with Swarovski crystals, classic grosgrain bows, and dressy metallic trim with varying heel heights, from stubby to spiked.   I didn't see any designer flip flops, but something else caught my eye -- a pair of  hot pink, suede-quilted ballerina flats.  "Hey you," one of the pink shoes called out to me from the rack marked size eight.   
    
"Who me?" I responded, turning to see where the tiny voice came from. 
     
"Yes, you, pretty lady.  You in the flip-flops.  Over here.  Try us pinkies on for size.  We’re cute, versatile and we'll take you everywhere."   

 They were definitely cute and the right size, but I questioned their versatility.  I turned over one of the shoes and looked at the price sticker.   Awfully expensive, I thought,  but I tried them on anyway.   My foot slipped into the pink flats for a perfect fit, but even on sale, the pinkies were still more than I wanted to pay.

A hot-looking salesman dressed in an Armani-like suit walked over to me and said,   "If you like the pink, quilted-suede ballerina flats, there’s a matching bag on sale as well."    I stared at the gorgeous hot pink quilted purse hanging from his arm and thought  How sharp.  My quick answer was something like, Oh, thank you, but I'm not the matching bag and shoe type.   I said this because it was Mister Armani's  job to sell two expensive accessories to someone who didn't need them.   Need?  I questioned.    Remember Anne Hathaway who was Meryl Streep's glamorous secretary in the film "The Devil Wears Prada? "  She looked stunning in every designer outfit that she probably didn’t need either.   I did some quick calculations in my head, and then reluctantly placed the pinkies back on the rack.   They glared back at me.  The matching pink bag scowled too.

     I avoided eye contact with Mister Armani, but his subliminal message was sinking in.   You want the hot pink shoes and matching handbag.   They are a good deal.  You know how much you want them.   

     "No, I’m not buying today,"  I said.  "Just looking."   Mister Armani was no rookie.  He was a graduate of the Dale Carnegie School of Slick Sales.   He had taken special courses in how to respond to a Thanks- I- don’t-need-them-I’m- just-looking customer. There are advanced techniques used to persuade fickle women like me to make a purchase regardless of need.  Using highly-honed skills in neurolinguistic programming, he turned up his receiving antenna and picked up my unconscious signal that said catch me if you can.   

     I abandoned the shoe racks and wandered over to a table piled high with gorgeous bags, also on sale.  My fingers slowly caressed the textures of these beautiful accessories – the fine grain of creamy leathers, supple and fuzzy fibers of suede, and the smooth, shiny metals like silver and gold.   Suddenly my hand touched something that felt exquisite.  Was it suede? Was it fur?  Was it real?   It was a Salvatore Ferragamo satchel with a stunning design of black and brown wavy stripes of soft camel and zebra hair.  The bag was trimmed in black suede and had a refined look.  Inside there was a rich, creamy silk lining that screamed EXPENSIVE!   I slid the bag over my shoulder and tucked it comfortably under my arm.    

     "Oh, I love this bag," I cried out, but when I saw the gleam in Mister Armani's eye, I quickly covered my mouth with my hand and thought  Bad girl, bad girl, bad girl.  
     
 Then I looked at the price tag.  Originally this bag cost $1100, but was on sale for $750.   Not in this remaining life time, I thought.  Besides I’m retired now and don’t have a need for such a dressy bag, I quickly put the purse down, but before I could walk away,  Mister Armani rushed over to the table and met me face-to-face.

      "A remarkable purse at a great price, don’t you think?" he said.
     
     "Well, that might seem like a good price to you,"  I said, "but I can't afford a $750 handbag."
      
     "$750, huh?"  he responded.   He turned over the tag and looked at the price.  
    
 Then he leaned closer to me and whispered,  "I’ll let you in on a little secret – just between you and me.   Beginning tomorrow, all the purses on this table and the shoes on those racks will be reduced  70%,  as our summer sale only lasts another four days."
     
     "70% off?" I asked.  "O.K., then how much will this bag cost?" 
      "About $300," he boasted. 

     "$300 for an  $1100 purse?" I questioned again. 
     
      "Yes," he said.  
     
I looked over at the pinkies and the matching bag.  Their glare had vanished.  Now they were smiling and winking at me, as if to say, "please, please take us home." 
    
       "And those?" I asked. 
  
        "Yes, the hot pink suede quilted ballerina flats will be 70% off too."   

    I ran the new numbers in my head.   I slipped the pinkies on one more time and swung the matching purse over my shoulder to see how they looked.  I felt glamorous even though I was not wearing the appropriate clothes.  Although I'm not the matching shoes and purse type,  I was tempted.
       
  
    I reached for the elegant Ferragamo bag, turned it over a couple of times and unzipped the main pocket.   I removed all the bulky paper stuffed inside and replaced it with my wallet,  cell phone,  and sunglasses.  Everything fit with room to spare.   

     Mister Armani had cast the bait, and I was hooked.    He had me in his line of sight as soon as I walked in the door.  He hoped I’d be driven by price and buy something on impulse.   He was right.  I’m a sucker for good deals – shoes, purses, Persian rugs, whatever.  Even the black flip-flops were a deal. It doesn’t matter whether there’s a need or not.  I handed him the Ferragamo bag and asked,    "Will you take plastic and hold everything until tomorrow?"  
    
He replied with a wink,  "My pleasure,"  he said, knowing we were both winners in this deal.  He arranged the smiling pinkies in a shoe box,  packed the two elegant purses in cloth covers and put them in a bag with a "Hold for Perkins" tag stapled on the front. 

      "I’ll be back tomorrow when the sale begins," I said.    As I walked out the door, I patted myself on the back and thought wow, what a good deal.  

                                               *****



N. B.  I wore the pink ballerina flats only once because I rarely wear pink.   The matching purse is still in my closet.   The Ferragamo purse was too dressy for my casual lifestyle, so I gave it to my step daughter, who loves it.   This is a perfect example of buying purely on impulse because the shoes and purses were a good deal.   But only a good deal if I wore them.   When I dropped off the pink ballerina flats at a second-hand store,  I thought I could hear them cursing.   Here is a picture of the pink quilted purse in case someone is interested.






Thursday, October 23, 2014

BOB'S YOUR UNCLE AND FANNY'S YOUR AUNT



There is only one American I know who has heard of The Kimberly, so when I told friends we were going there, they asked where it was.  "It's a huge area of Northwestern Australia, bigger than the size of Texas," I answered, "And it's considered one of the most ecologically diverse and pristine wilderness areas on our planet."



Visiting Australia has never been high on my priority list because I used to say that when I get off a plane, I want to feel like I'm in a foreign country.  To me Australia seemed too similar to America, but exploring the rugged Kimberly Coast on a small ship sounded more like taking a walkabout with the Aborigines in the Outback.  In other words, this trip seemed appealing.  Although I was not ready to make cruising our style, I thought that this would give me a preview of what it will be like to travel in my eighties.


THIS WAS OUR ROUTE UP THE COAST


Upon our arrival in Australia, we had the same reaction we did when we visited Canada this sumer.  How come we know so little about this country -- its geography its history (other than it was a place that England sent its criminals), its politics, or any details about how the government is run.  It was kind of embarrassing not to know the name of the Prime Minister.  Despite our ignorance about a lot of things Australian, we patted ourselves on the back for knowing that Nicole Kidman and Olivia Newton John were Australian, but what we didn't know was that they were victims of what Aussies call the "tall poppy syndrome."  This means that, unlike America, it is difficult for an Australian to make a name for himself or herself or to gain fame in their homeland.  Usually, they must leave the country to become successful.  The reasons for this are not exactly clear, although one passenger said that there has always been a tendency for Aussies to want equality for everyone and dislike countrymen (or countrywomen) who flaunt their success.

Let's face it, as Americans, we pay little attention to what goes on in Australia.  In a book I read, it said that in 1997, there were only 20 articles in The New York Times about Australia, whereas in the same year, there were 120 articles on Peru, 150 on Albania, and 500 on Israel.  Most Americans don't even know that in 1967 the Prime Minister of Australia plunged into the surf while strolling on the beach one day and was never heard from again.  All of this might be acceptable if this country was like Belarus or Benin, but the fact is Australia is one of the largest countries in the world by landmass.



ONE OF THE KIMBERLY BEACHES



Our need to get a visa to enter Australia completely escaped us.  "Where is your Australian visa?" the young agent at the airport in Bali asked, as we were checking in for our flight to Perth.  "Americans don't need visas for Australia,"  Bruce  replied with conviction.  "I'm afraid you do, Sir," the female agent behind the counter said in a polite voice, not authoritative like the bellowing voice from the man standing behind him who repeated, "Yes, you do."  We shook our heads.  "No, we don't," we repeated.  "Look, I don't know where you got this information, but you do need a visa and that's simply the way it is," the man answered back.  "Who are you?" I asked, assuming he was another passenger who wanted to butt in.  "I'm from Immigration," he answered brusquely, "and I'm in the middle of something important, so let's just get on with it and try to get you a visa on line, if we can."  He turned to the agent behind the desk and whispered something that sounded like keep an eye out for fake passports from Jakarta, will you?

After finally connecting through a maze of networks, it took about fifteen minutes to fill out the forms and pay for the visas online.  But once we received them electronically, we were on our way, expressing gratitude to the patient agent.  You would think that after our visa debacle in Argentina, where we thought we could obtain visas at the border, but couldn't, we would have researched this visa issue more thoroughly.

A few days later, we boarded the Coral Princess ship with 46 other passengers, mostly Australians, near the frontier town of Broome on the West Coast.  The Coral Princess is a handsome, twin-hulled boutique catamaran, designed for maximum stability and comfort.  Most of the time you feel like you are cruising on a private yacht.  We were guided by their highly professional staff to our comfortable stateroom, where we eagerly unpacked for the highly anticipated ten day trip.




THE CORAL PRINCESS

After successfully donning our life jackets and going through the required emergency drill, we went down to the bar and dining room for cocktails and dinner with a fixed menu that sounded absolutely delicious.  Except for the purser handing out anti-nausea pills to all passengers when we boarded, there was no significant warning of what was to come.  Just as we were sitting down for dinner, the ship began to heave a little and then more rocking and rolling.  I don't usually suffer from motion sickness so I wasn't worried initially, but after a few minutes, this type of turbulence began to affect me.  

Pretty soon the dining room was almost completely empty, as people ran or crawled to their staterooms to lie down, except for a few brave souls, like Bruce and me.  I thought I'd be ok if I ate a little something since I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast.  My stomach was a little queasy and my head was spinning too, which reminded me of the only time when I came really close to losing it -- throwing up, I mean, because of motion sickness.    I was in the spinning teacups ride at Disneyland, and forgot to keep my head up and my eyes focused on the horizon as I had been told by the man collecting tickets.  If the ride hadn't ended when it did, I might have done something awful to upset my six-year old niece who was having a grand time spinning round in the teacup and sitting beside me.   So here on the ship I kept a smile on my face, ate a small dinner role and a couple of bites of chicken, all the time watching Bruce consume the entire meal, including dessert, and not feeling a thing.   Fortunately in the middle of the night the boat stopped heaving and apparently, so did everyone else.  





Since Bruce and I are not used to cruising, we forgot that the view outside our cabin window constantly changes, which in The Kimberly means you either see white sandy beaches, massive red and black sandstone cliffs or major outcroppings of rock which are usually exposed only at low tide.  But there are other things that never change:  bright blue sky, gorgeous sunrises and sunsets, and oppressive heat and humidity.  Fortunately, the Coral Princess was well air-conditioned, but when you went outside, it felt like you just opened the door of a 400 degree oven.  I used to say that the hottest place I ever traveled was Papua New Guinea, so no wonder we sweated like pigs.  We were about a thousand miles from those shores.
















THE EXPLORER AT A WET LANDING
Sharing daily details about exploring The Kimberly would take too many pages.  It can be summed up best by saying our twice daily excursions in a smaller, zippy boat called the Explorer offered the opportunity to explore the incredible scenery on foot.   We experienced natural surroundings that are far different from what we have seen in other parts of the world.  Geologically, the Kimberly was created almost two thousand million years ago and transformed into its present landmass by major geological upheaval also, over a period of millions of years.  We were struck by the brilliant colors of the sedimentary, metamorphic and igneous rock.  There was a sampling of marine life, like dangerous saltwater crocs, sea snakes, and one day we came across a small-scale bearded dragon that even our guest lecturers had never seen before.  




OLIVE PYTHON
One of the crew discovered an olive python sleeping on the Explorer excursion boat, which was a little creepy, especially since he seemed to think it had been on the boat for several days.  In the water, we saw an occasional whale and several pods of dolphins.  One day a large, but friendly tawny nurse shark came to our boat to be hand fed small fish, a mid-morning snack that the shark remembered from previous Coral Princess visits. 



















On Montgomery Reef, Australia's largest inshore reef, we experienced one of the lowest tides ever and enjoyed a spectacle of spectacles as we watched cascades of white water pouring off its ragged edge.  The best way to see the reef, exotic coral and unusual marine life was on a zodiac.



MONTGOMERY REEF






THIS WAS NOT ONLY A WET LANDING BUT A MUD LANDING
We had wet landings and occasional dry ones.  Some of our walks were rocky and quite steep, under a blazing sun with almost no shade.  Others were flat on hard sand and soft, through mud flats and sharp spinifex grass.  


We climbed over boulders and took cool dips in several natural plunge pools.  

A NATURAL POOL FOR A NICE COOL DIP ON A HOT DAY




OSPREY NEST


Binoculars weren't required to spot the large osprey nests built on top of uniquely carved rocks, and although we never saw a bower bird, we did see its cleverly camouflaged nest under a tree and in the sand.  The hundred-year-old family grave sites were an indication that a few had tried to build a community here, but failed due to the harsh climate and the inhospitable land.  One day we explored the site of a well preserved DC3 plane wreck that crashed in the bush during the war in 1942, but amazingly, all the crew survived.


A BOWER BIRD'S BOWER (A NEST ON THE GROUND)






YES, IT'S  WEIRD TO HAVE A PHOTO OF YOURSELF
IN FRONT OF A WRECKED PLANE



WALKING ON WATER OR MAYBE MUD?




As we walked on the beach, hundreds of fiddler crabs ran for cover in their well protected sand holes, but I was still able to get a photo.  


FIDDLER CRABS HAVE ONLY ONE LARGE CLAW


One of the highlights for many was an exciting zodiac raft trip down the famous Horizontal Falls, an unusual water phenomenon made possible by a fast rising tide.  








Fortunately, we had several opportunities to see the famous Wandjina figures, the Aboriginal name for ancient rock art, created by tribes thousands of years ago.  Some paintings required us to lay on our backs and look up at the low ceiling in order to see the details.







When we weren't exploring by foot, we were cruising down mangrove-lined rivers, narrow gorges or deep canyons.  On the ship, experts lectured on topics like Australia's original settlers, rock art, and the mysteries of sharks and crocs.  








Food was never a problem. In fact, that's an understatement because we had an amazing gourmet chef named Travis.   There was morning and afternoon tea, where you could enjoy freshly baked scones, served with berry jam and real whipped cream.  The staff on the ship were extremely professional and yet at the same time they loved cracking jokes and making good fun with all the guests.



PAM AND JACK, WHO WORE MANY HATS



(L-R) EMMA, JOANNE, AND BRITTANY



One morning some of us paid dearly to get a bird's eye view of The Kimberly with a helicopter excursion over the famous Mitchell Falls, but we were so late in the dry season that the falls were pretty skimpy and could almost be called non-existent.  It didn't really matter to me because what I wanted was an overall perspective of the rugged landscape below.   Here we were thousands of miles from anywhere and in the middle of nowhere.


















Very early on the trip, I knew the passengers would be as interesting and colorful as the scenery, because Aussies are so much fun.  


SUE FROM MELBOURNE

Whether you consider Aussies gifted communicators or not, I have to admit that they certainly have an unusual vernacular.  It took a while for us to understand what they were saying because they often shorten words that have more than two syllables, even calling themselves Aussies instead of Australians,  Sunglasses are sunnies.  Universities are unis.  The word temporary becomes tempy, and my favorite is pressies for chrissy.  Figure that one out?  A bloke is a man, and a sheila's a girl.  Bob's your uncle and Fanny's your aunt means don't worry mate, everything is going to be ok.  Some expressions need no translation like, pushing shit up the hill with a pointed stick,  point percy at the porcelain, and my other favorite is If your auntie had balls, she'd be your uncle.

For more than a decade now I've been very fortunate to visit many places of extraordinary beauty, and The Kimberly ranks pretty high on the list.  But making friends with a wonderful bunch of Aussies is what made this trip really special and worthwhile for me.

Saturday, October 4, 2014

THE MAGIC OF BALI

What people say about Bali is true. The tropical island in the Indian Ocean is really magical, but you can't see the magic in the pictures we took. Instead the magic is in the air, and also in the smiles of the people who live there. The magic is ingrained in the Balinese culture, similar to what we experienced when we traveled to other countries, where Buddhism and Hinduism are inculcated into people's lives.

You feel the magic the minute you meet the driver who greets you at the airport with a sign that has your name on it. There is something very comforting to arrive in a foreign land, after what seems like days of travel, and see your name written in big bold letters on a white sign that a stranger is holding up. With palms held close together and with his head slightly bowed, our driver, Kutuk, dressed in traditional Balinese clothing, made us feel as though we were coming home to the land that we loved, not going on a vacation to a place we'd never been to before.

We were slightly shell shocked and exhausted from 24 hours of travel squeezed in the back of the giant plane sitting in seats that we all know as coach. And yet, after arriving at Amori Villas, high in the mountains above the town of Ubud, and feeling the warmth of the people who worked there and the tranquility of the scenery around us, we quickly bounced back. We felt like someone had infused us with a big dose of energy. Although we can no longer call ourselves true honeymooners, Bruce had reserved the honeymoon suite, which didn't really surprise me because he's such a sucker for outdoor showers. Everyone at Amori greeted us like long-lost friends -- Rick and Peta, an Australian couple who own the mountain resort and their Balinese staff, like Mosie and Avi, made our three-night stay one of the most luxurious experiences we've had in a long time.









Our visit to Bali was really a stopover on our way to Australia, but after only a few hours, we realized that this spectacular place deserved more than just a short visit. The next time we will try and come for a couple of weeks. With only three nights and two full days, we crammed a lot in, not taking adequate time to relax and swim in the infinity pool at Amori or explore the charm of the small village down the road.







Instead, on the first day we hiked the Campuan Ridge trail, which took us up the hillside on dirt paths, through acres of bright green rice fields, and finally back to Ubud on a busy paved road that included a couple of very steep hills. If I had been on my bike, I definitely would have had to walk it. Trying to find the Ridge trailhead, which essentially started very close to a Hindu Temple, where a special ceremony was going on, was our first adventure. Not wanting to miss any of the ceremony we witnessed from the bridge above, we quickly put on the paisley print sarong and purple sash that our hosts had loaned us to wear, since this traditional dress is required for entry into temples. This gave us a good laugh as we struggled to properly wrap the three yards of fabric, so we wouldn't trip on the long hem while walking down the steep steps to the river to witness the ceremony below.












It seemed that our trip to Bali not only happened at the same time as the famous Ubud Festival of Writers and Readers that is held every year, but it also coincided with several religious events around the revered Saraswati, the Hindu God of Wisdom and Education. So, In addition to the streets being filled with foreign visitors on vacation and writers and readers from around the world, the local kids were also out of school. For the next several days Balinese people would be coming to and going from the many temples to make their offerings to the worshipped God, Saraswati. Incense filled the air, drumbeats and bells rang out, and chanting could be heard from the temple by the river. Although wearing a sarong was essential in order to get close enough to simply take pictures, we were told that the ceremony was off limits to tourists, and that it was time for us to move on. That worked fine with us because the sun was becoming very hot and that, along with the humidity of the tropics, made us feel sticky and drippy, and we hadn't even begun our ridge loop walk. Since I wasn't wearing my Fitbit device, which determines how many miles we'd walked, all I can say is that other than stopping to take pictures and to share a bowl of Indonesian noodles at a small cafe in the rice fields, we walked continuously from 10:30 am to 4:00 pm. The Lonely Planet guidebook said the trail was 8 kilometers, but someone at the hotel told us that it was 24 km. All I can say is that we definitely walked more than 8 km and no way did we do 24.




















On our second day in Bali we thought we'd take it easy by hiring a car and driver to drive us around to see the sights, since the price to do so seemed very reasonable. Ha, Ha, taking it easy. What a joke. Seeing the sights near and around Ubud meant plenty of walking, and a long climb down and up 350 steps to view the Puranas Gunung Kawi, not including all the walking we did at the ancient temple site itself. And I must tell you that this was done in the high heat and humidity wearing three yards of fabric that hung down below your knees and under which you wore a pair of already sweaty shorts. Another well known site we visited was the Tirta Empul or also known as the Holy Water Temple, where we walked, and watched myriads of people bathe in the healing holy waters, and fill plastic jugs to take home to their families. Friends of mine in California actually participated in the bathing ritual when they visited Bali a couple of years ago, and even though the cool water would have felt great against my hot and sticky skin, the idea of spending the rest of the day in wet clothes did not sound very appealing. Instead I looked forward to returning to the air conditioned car. We also visited some of the wood carvers in the adjacent village of Mas. Although we were open to buying something if something special caught our eye, we, unfortunately left the town of Mas empty handed. Not the least bit deterred, we later combed the streets of Ubud looking for shops and galleries that had the perfect mask to add to our tribal collection at home. And voila, we were successful. I'm not sure how many miles we walked on day two, but we walked a lot -- maybe not as many miles as the day before, but pretty darn close.


























I am writing this post while flying to Australia. In a couple of days we will be exploring the wild Kimberly Coast on a small 50 passenger catamaran ship. I don't know how much Wifi we will have, but stay tuned. The adventure continues.............

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