“A natural”

Today, I spent a long time holding Chris’s cousin’s newborn son, who is just five weeks old. He spends the majority of his time sleeping, a good chunk of time feeding from his mother’s breast, and a small amount of time crying and pooping. What a life. I kept inhaling him and that incredibly fresh, powdery baby smell. Now, if only parenting could be that simple – just inhaling and enjoying the moment.

As I held this little baby in my lap, Chris’s mother remarked to Chris’s dad that it looks like I’d quickly adapt to being a mum, and I already looked like I was such a natural. Chris’s dad later pulled me aside to let me know. “As you can tell, Mum is trying to send a message,” he said with a little chuckle.

It’s easy to look like a natural when all you are doing is holding a baby when he is soundly sleeping. It’s all the crying and the poop and the sicknesses and the fussiness that terrify me right now.

Another Christmas comes and goes

It’s Christmas day in Melbourne, and also Chris’s 35th birthday. We’re all getting older slowly but surely, but at least we will be getting old and wrinkly together.

That’s the thing about Christmases, birthdays, and every significant day of every year forever; time is moving on, wrinkles are slowly developing, hair is greying, and health will gradually decline. Every year, Chris exceeds another year that Ed lived, and I gradually get closer to the last year that Ed lived.

Every December throughout the month, I have small day dreams of what life could have been like if Ed were healthy and happy, if we could spend Christmas together with Chris and his family. He wouldn’t have been deprived of his favorite holiday, he’d have a Christmas tree to decorate and admire as the lights flickered, and he’d get excited about all the delicious varieties of food on the Jacob family table.

And every December, I get angry thinking about everything my parents robbed my brother of, the unconditional love and parental support he never got to experience. And it makes me feel pain and anguish. Ed was just like every other simple child until he realized that he was never going to have good role models to look up to, and then he just decided to stop caring. Why should he care when he didn’t feel like he was cared for?

Christmas is supposed to be a happy time, a happy day. But it’s always marred for me because it was Ed’s favorite holiday, and he’ll never get to see it again.

I still think about visiting a medium to speak with him directly. It sounds ridiculous, but I think I will always be angry that he was taken away so soon. There’s too much left unsaid and undone.

Dead battery

At the end of yesterday’s engagement party in a suburban Melbourne park, Chris and I got into the car to find that the car would not start. Even the side-view mirrors, which usually turned all the way out when you unlocked the doors, only turned out half way when I pressed the button. Fortunately, we weren’t too far away from home, and Chris’s parents hadn’t taken off yet and called for roadside support. We found out that the battery had died, which we suspected, and that while typical batteries for this type of car last only four years, Chris’s mother (who owns this vehicle) had this battery for going on seven years now. So, it was just lucky for all of us that this happened near home and with the family present, and not at a critical time for transportation needs. This morning, Chris’s dad called Lexus to come to the house to replace the battery, and everything now is as good as new.

As Chris’s dad explained all of this to me, he spoke with a smile, saying how happy he was that it happened yesterday with everyone present, that this was a blessing in disguise and how fortunate the car was to have had a battery that lasted seven years and not just four. The entire time as he is speaking, I am standing there slightly in awe, again wondering what would have happened if the same situation happened in my own family. It’s hard to get away from it, but I always have these “what if that happened in my family?” thoughts when things go slightly awry in Chris’s family.

In my own family, I could imagine how the scene would have been very different. Even in the calmest situations, my family manages to create tension and stress where it doesn’t even exist. So when real problems arise, it’s literally like hell breaking loose.

If it were me driving my dad’s car (I got shudders thinking about that), I’d be asked… did you make sure to shut off the headlights or running lights (well, that’s irrelevant in this case because with this model, the lights shut off automatically when you shut off the engine)? Did you have the AC going too much? What other bad things could you possibly have done to have caused this to happen? Why did you not see this coming? Did you have anything plugged into the car that could have drained the battery? All of this would be yelled in an accusatory tone. In other words, all of this is your fault, and you caused this to happen. In my family, someone is always to be blamed, and it’s never my parents. It’s always Ed or me. And now that Ed is gone, it’s pretty much always me.

 

“Free time”

This afternoon was Chris’s cousin’s engagement party. What was surprising was that her mother actually made one of the fanciest homemade cakes I’d ever seen. It was this incredibly tall, marshmallow-frosted white cake with intricate beading and lining, handmade red and white sugar flowers, and a chocolate fudge filling. The cake itself was moist throughout; I was completely blown away.

I asked Chris’s cousin’s mother how, when, and where she learned to do this type of cake making; I had no idea she had this talent. She said she hadn’t done cakes like this since all three of her daughters were young. Since she quit her job temporarily until the girls were around 5, she said she had a lot of free time after they’d go to sleep, and she got bored and missed adult conversation and interaction, so she decided to take up a hobby at the local community center, which offered cake baking and decorating classes. She became obsessed with it and started doing it all the time, and it got to a point where friends, church members, and friends of friends were asking her to make cakes for their birthdays, graduations, and even weddings, and paying her for her services.

Two things surprised me in this conversation: one, that she literally had this talent and hadn’t made a cake of this scale since the girls were that young (that’s 20+ years ago!), yet this cake still turned out immaculate and delicious; and two, that in retrospect, as a young mother she actually admitted to having a “lot” of free time, even with three children. Most parents of today think they don’t have enough time to do everything with just one child, yet Chris’s aunt thought she had too much free time and needed to consume herself with a new (and quite laborious and intensive) hobby with three freaking children and zero hired help. She said she enjoyed it, as it gave her another purpose and something else to focus on other than being a temporary stay-at-home mother, which oftentimes drove her crazy (as it probably would anyone).

That’s the thing about Chris’s family. Although they are certainly not without their own little dysfunctional bits, as every family is dysfunctional to some degree, somehow, what unites every individual in his family in my head is that every single one of them is so positive, always looking to new opportunities and ways to see the glass half full and not half empty. I’ll never stop being astounded by this.

 

Business class babies

I was sitting on a flight from Perth going back to Melbourne this afternoon in business class, thinking about how both on the flights to and from Perth, I sat next to mothers with their infant children in their laps. One baby looked like she was only a couple months old, still getting breast fed. Regardless of whether these mothers paid for their business class tickets or used points to upgrade, they clearly live privileged lives that they will then pass on to their children. Their babies aren’t even a year old yet, and they have already enjoyed flying business class; that’s an experience some people never get their entire lives. My parents are included in that so far.

It wasn’t until I turned 13 when I finally boarded a plane for the very first time. It was a short flight to Las Vegas, and it was also my very first time leaving the state of California. The first take off feeling was so exhilarating, as it literally felt like I was either flying or floating when the wheels left the ground. I was so surprised by it that I immediately started laughing, which made my dad laugh, too. Then, flying was not about the experience or journey in itself; flying was a means to get from point A to point B.

I think about the kids who are as privileged as the babies I sat next to on these two flights, and I wonder if they will end up being grateful for the privilege they have been born into or take it for granted. Because I grew up with parents who thought that holiday travel was only for the “rich,” I never knew when I was young that budget travel existed, or that average people could actually do world travel and not go broke. You know only what you know and have been exposed to, right? But I wonder what it’s like for kids who have always traveled, people like Chris or Ben or these babies, if they truly realize how lucky they are, and especially for kids who get first-class treatment when they travel. If you expose your children only to the very best and most premium experiences, how will they react and cope and adapt when they have lesser experiences? Telling them about your own lesser experiences doesn’t really resonate with children; children need to experience these things themselves.

Tunnel tour

After doing a quick wine tasting at the famed Voyager Estate, we drove back up to Fremantle to do the Fremantle Prison tunnel tour. The prison tunnel tour is a bit different than your usual prison tour in that it’s very intensive in what they require you to do. Because you will be canoeing in water and climbing very long ladders in a harness, they mandate that you take a breathalyzer test (can’t have any drunks on this tour), tie your hair up if it’s long, wear socks so that you can put on gum boots, and also wear helmets and body suits to cover yourself from all the dust and debris that may get on you. I’ve never heard of any tour that makes you do a breathalyzer test, so I knew we were in for something crazy.

The tunnels are were the prisoners of the Fremantle Prison worked under the prison during the end of the 1800s, and it was eye opening to see the terrible conditions that prisoners have always had to endure up until today. Not that prisons in the U.S. are known for treating their inmates well, but here, they were forced to wear kilos-heavy shackles on their ankles and climb ominously unstable and thin ladders, carrying all types of heavy material to do their work in tunnels and holes that barely had any light. If anyone died in the prison, their family would be notified only of their death, but not how they died. They had virtually zero rights. And if an inmate ever got on the bad side of another inmate, it would be easy to fake an accidental death by pushing them off the ladder or beating them over the head with shackles. No one would ever find out, so what was there to lose?

I always feel so sad for prisoners. In most cases, many of them did commit wrong and violent crimes. But at the end of the day, they are still human beings who have rights. It especially pains me to think of prisoners who have spouses and children that they can barely see if at all (in the U.S. at least, I know that minors are not allowed to visit inmates). What have the spouses or the children done to have deserved being separated from their husband or wife or father or mother?

Work to live

Today, we did a tour of the Margaret River area of Western Australia, which encompassed far more than just wineries that Australians usually talk about first when mentioning WA. We started the day with canoeing along the river, visited a little creek area and learned about local, healing honey, and had a delicious lunch among the wine vats at the boutique Fraser Gallop winery. Then we progressed onto seeing the Wilyabrup Cliffs in a secluded area you can access only by a 4WD. When the day ended with our guide, who toured six of us around, we went on to a forest to see these endless regional trees and visited a beach to see the surf.

One person who was on our tour was actually local, and she was originally from Melbourne but moved out to Margaret River once her daughter decided to move there. She originally just wanted to visit, but she fell in love with the area when visiting and decided to stay. Her friend who accompanied her on the tour who was visiting was going back to Sydney, but she had lived in the area for a few years, working random jobs at wineries, reaping the benefits of the wine discounts and just there to enjoy life. When the guide asked her what she did for work, she responded that she just needed a job, any job, and decided to work at a winery. She’s working to live, not living to work, so whatever paid the bills and allowed her the lifestyle she wanted would be what she’d do while in the Margaret River.

It’s so rare to hear anyone in my industry say they are working to live, not living to work. In tech, the way it works is that it’s the cool and trendy and “right” thing to say that you will do whatever it is that is needed for your company so that in our startup case, you will get bought or go public because that’s the end all and be all of your life. If you were to ever say that you worked to live, no one would ever compliment you; in fact, people would be more likely to look down on you and think you are some loser who doesn’t fit into the “culture” of the company. We’re all supposed to be ambitious, trying to achieve the most for the company and our careers. Anyone who doesn’t fit that will not fit in.

Getting “sanded”

In the modern day world of social media where everyone’s travel photos are at the tip of your fingers, it’s easy to see amazing destinations all over the world on your small mobile phone screen and romanticize about how lovely it would be to visit. You see hill after hill of sand dunes and think, what a beautiful place to visit and photograph; I’d love to stand up on that hill and experience that.

Then, your reality comes, and you do visit. And the experience is not as lovely as you imagined. Instead, you end up feeling the greatest winds that Western Australia is capable of and nearly get blown down a sand dune with the thickest layer of sand stuck on every inch of your body, even when you have clothes on. Your mouth is full of sand because the wind blows it into your mouth the few times you open your mouth to either talk to your partner or scream down the hill. All the while, you are trying to do sand boarding for the first time and realize it’s not as idyllic as Instagram uploaded photos want you to think it is. In fact, you are trying to board down a hill against the wind, which results in your eyeballs getting stuck with sand in them; your sunglasses, or your “sunnies” as we call them here, are not enough to cover your eyes from the intense speed of the sand blowing literally everywhere. You have to floss sand out of your teeth later that evening. That’s how much sand there is. It is seriously everywhere and even gets embedded in your scalp and ear canals. If you are a woman, it’s even in your bra. Yep — in your bra. Let’s not even get started where else that sand found its way to.

That was us today at the Lancelin Sand Dunes after our local WA rock lobster lunch north of Perth. We rented one sand board for two hours and stayed only half an hour to board down the dunes. The guy from whom we rented the board said that we came on a bad day and that today had some of the worst winds Lancelin was capable of seeing.  I don’t think I’ve ever experienced more insane wind in my life.

And the end part that was really bad and is lingering? I didn’t have my hair tied up because I wasn’t thinking, so this monstrous Lancelin wind destroyed my hair. I ended up getting large knots all over my fine hair, resulting in huge chunks getting ripped out tonight with a wide-toothed comb. And I never get knots. Now, my hair is brittle at the ends and probably in the worst condition it’s ever been in. I never thought hair masks or leave-in conditioner was important until now. I’m going to need at least a night’s worth of coconut oiling to get my hair back.

 

Places less traveled

This morning, we flew from Melbourne to Perth, Western Australia, as our side Australian trip this year. Western Australia is one of the largest states in the world, and just getting from Perth to the top of Western Australia could take 24-36 hours driving time. During our five days in the state, we’ll barely be touching a dot of it but are trying to see as much as we can that is in the vicinity. This will be my first time on the west coast of Australia, and my first time seeing the Indian Ocean.

Western Australia isn’t really a place that the average person thinks to go to first when they think of Australia. Oftentimes when you meet people who have been to Australia, they think of or have been to Sydney, Melbourne, or Cairns to see the Great Barrier Reef. Perth, Broome, or the Margaret River aren’t top of mind unless they are Australian. WA has a more rugged “bush” feeling than the east coast of Australia – at least, that’s what I’ve been told since I’ve been here for only a day at this point. Of all the friends I’ve told about our WA trip, only one had heard of Perth before and had a strong desire to go. And if it weren’t for Chris, I probably wouldn’t have known anything about Perth or the Margaret River. I’d even heard of Adelaide, South Australia, before I’d learned about Perth.

That’s actually a shame, though, because Western Australia has so much that is amazing about Australia: gorgeous aqua beaches, intense waves for world-class surfing (yeah, not for me, but I will happily watch), white sand, golden desserts, tropical flora and exotic fauna everywhere. And because it is lesser known on an international scale (especially for Americans who probably don’t know where to identify Australia on a world map), it’s satisfying to tell people I’m going here when they have no clue what or where it is. Popular destinations are popular for a reason, but that’s because enough people have gone there to make that road known. We have to start somewhere, and someone is eventually going to do it. But some places that were once relatively unknown eventually blow up – places like Iceland, where I personally know three clients, three colleagues, and five friends who have gone in the last year. I’m not crapping on Iceland; I’d love to visit it, but it’s such a turnoff when everyone and their grandmother is going to a specific destination like Iceland.

Jeju Island, the honeymoon island of South Korea that was once virtually unknown outside of Korea, is now incredibly popular with foreign tourists to the point that now, many tourists go to South Korea to visit Seoul and Jeju, and then leave. It’s fun to take the roads less traveled to then come home to friends and tell them what an amazing experience you had at a place where few people to no one you know has gone to, and then convince them that this is a place worth adding to their travel bucket list.

Perth is also one of the most isolated major cities in the world, and maybe this is the introverted side of me, but the idea of being isolated from the rest of the world is actually quite exciting.

It’s hard, though, when you have limited paid leave, a fixed travel budget, and need to make hard decisions about how and where to spend your holiday, especially for Americans with such annoying and stingy paid time off policies. Oftentimes, we end up doing what is the easiest – visiting major cities that people we know are aware of and skipping everything in between those cities. Chris’s cousin recently biked through Vietnam from the south to the north and was able to see so much of the country that the average Vietnam visitor would not have seen. “I just don’t see how anyone could just go to Ho Chi Minh City, then fly up to Hanoi, and leave,” she said.” “So many people do this. Why would you do that? There’s so much else to see!” I understand that sentiment, but then the reality of everything above I mentioned kicks in; you want to see what you know and have heard of when you know your time is limited and you don’t have weeks or months to explore lesser known areas. It’s all about how you set your priorities given your time constraints. Me? As the saying goes: I haven’t been everywhere, but it’s on my list.

 

Splat pigs

We saw several of Chris’s friends over the course of today and ended the day at his cousin’s, where the family has just welcomed their third son a couple of weeks ago. When we were in Korea last summer, we saw a street vendor demonstrating these “pig splat” toys in a trendy shopping area in Seoul. You take this squishy orange ball with a pig face on it, slam it down on a hard surface, and the ball “splatters” on the ground, then slowly gathers itself up and becomes a ball again. We thought it would be a fun, inexpensive gift to get Chris’s cousin’s sons, so we bought two of them. As we drove to their house, I asked Chris how long he thought these balls would last, fearing that they’d barely last an hour. When we got there, the kids were so excited to play with these that they threw them constantly on the floor and on the ceiling, squeezing them to the point that both burst and even had liquid oozing out of them. It was nonstop screaming and laughing and throwing until the last little bit of liquid spilled out.

Thirty minutes. Little boys are like little monsters. I do not understand how anyone can raise three sons at once. Good luck to them.