Aussie, Aussie, Aussie!

Last Sunday, the 26th of January, was Australia Day. It was special for me because Hussein and his family had their citizenship ceremonies, which Mum and I attended. Mum has been to a lot of citizenship ceremonies, and she said this particular one was the largest she has ever been to.

I recall having been to one or two as a child, but I couldn't quite remember what they were really about. On Sunday, there were a lot of formalities. You can see in the picture below the mayor of the council getting things started.

She introduced all the dignitaries, who were mainly three politicians and some staff from the council. She then acknowledged my mother, who had no role in the ceremony but has had a lot to do with this council area in the past.

When the mayor acknowledged Mum, Hussein started clapping, and then everyone followed suit. Afterwards, Mum told me that it really embarrassed her, and she said that if she’d known that was going to happen, she wouldn’t have come.

An Aboriginal Elder gave a Welcome to Country, which I appreciated and also found ironic. Because on the same day in 1788, it would seem that when Captain Arthur Phillip and the First Fleet arrived at Sydney Cove without an invitation, they welcomed themselves.

The first speaker was the state leader of the opposition. Mum knows him, but I don't. I met him once when I was voting at a pre-poll with Nanny, and he was handing out how-to-vote cards. I struck up a conversation with him about his opponent, and when he was talking, he reminded me of a serial killer.

He’s supposed to be a nice person and the saviour of the state Liberal Party. But listening to him speak, I couldn't help but think to myself that there was no chance he could ever become Premier over our current one, who I personally think is brilliant.

You can see the opposition leader below.

A senator and another state politician spoke, and then the ceremony began. There were around 98 people, including children, taking the pledge, so they were called up in groups.

I stood with Hussein as he waited to be called up with his family. We talked about the journey he had been on to become an Australian citizen, and it had been a tough one—particularly with lengthy visa processing delays, which made certainty and life very difficult.

We also talked about the discrimination he had experienced when trying to apply for tourist visas with a Pakistani passport. He mentioned a few countries, including Belgium, where he had been refused a visa for no reason. This is something that I now understand firsthand, after Maiki couldn't get a visa into Cambodia.

It must be the most demoralising feeling, and it is pure discrimination. While we were talking about these things, I took the photo below of a group of people taking the pledge, which I refer to as the oath.

Finally, Hussein, his wife, and their three children were called up. I went up close and took photos, and I welled up a little bit. I think Australians take their citizenship for granted. I was lucky enough to have been born here, and while it was a little bit rich of me to count my blessings as I stood on stolen land, I confess I did feel lucky.

I was also happy that my best friend, Hussein, can now enjoy all of the luxuries and freedoms we have as Australians, especially having an Australian passport. He actually sent me a message today and asked if I could be a referee on his passport application, and I, of course, said yes.

After Hussein, his wife, and the kids said the oath, they came back down to the section where we were all sitting. Hussein's mother and mother-in-law were there from Pakistan, and I was a little bit surprised, but Hussein was crying. As he locked into the embrace of a big bear hug with his mother, there were tears streaming down his face. They spoke in Urdu, and I feel like they might have been talking about how much it meant to him to finally have his citizenship.

He then came over and gave me a big hug. He was still crying, and it was weird for me because, even though I don’t stereotype anyone, Hussein is my best friend, and he is a sensitive man, but he is also a proud Muslim man, and I had never seen him cry before.

I hugged all the family, and we watched as the last oaths were taken. Once everyone was sworn in, the mayor got up and told us all to do an "Aussie, Aussie, Aussie!" which everyone did, yelling it out. We all then waved the Australian flags we had been given.

The only thing left to do was sing the national anthem. I'm not particularly patriotic. There is a version of Waltzing Matilda that John Williamson sung at the Sydney 2000 Olympics, and I like that version. The whole crowd sings along, and you can hear John choke up at one point in the recording.

The national anthem reminds me of primary school. Of all the schools I went to, I can only remember singing Advance Australia Fair at primary school. I was also a member of an organisation that used to sing the national anthem at meetings, but I don't go to those meetings anymore.

We all stood up, and I looked around and saw so many nationalities of people, young kids who will grow up Aussie, my best friend, Hussein, whose dream had come true by being able to call Australia home, and we sung.

The music was familiar, the words are offensive, but it reminded me of being a kid, it really did. I thought I was going to cry, but I looked next to me and noticed Mum wasn’t singing. I nudged her and pointed at the words, which were projected onto a screen at the front. She nodded, and I smiled and rolled my eyes.

Below, you can see everyone standing up to sing the national anthem.

Sometimes, I think Hussein's children don’t like me. I love buying presents for them, but sometimes I get a vibe from them that they don’t like me because I’m fat. But they were full of hugs on Sunday, and they seemed happy to see me, which made me happy.

Monday was the Australia Day public holiday, but Mum and I had arranged for cleaners from Jim’s Cleaning to come and do a big clean of the house. They are a young married couple, and they had visited us the week previously to give us a quote. They also didn’t charge extra for the public holiday.

I told Mum that I had this new rule with the cleaners—I didn’t want to get to know them or welcome them into the family; I wanted clear professional boundaries. This was my plan because I sometimes wonder if having Nanny as a grandmother and best friend figure in my life for all 43 years of it was a good thing.

I loved her, and I miss her every day, but there are so many questions I have. This is one reason people always call me a communist—because I want a classless society.

But anyway, I set out to let the cleaners do their work while Mum and I chatted. The man was doing all the vacuuming, and the woman did the bathrooms. But when the man was working near Mum and me, I simply could not resist finding out a little bit more about them.

He ended up showing us photos of their child, told us about life in India, and we had initially planned for them to come once a fortnight, but now they are coming once a week. We were friendly, but I still think the professional boundaries are there.

It also made me think about this hardworking couple from India who have a young child and 72 clients a month. I don’t know their citizenship status, but they are doing the work Australians don’t want to do. They were such hard workers—our house has never been cleaner.

Hussein is also a very hard worker. When we moved house, he helped us out so much. I welcome these people to our country.

But these people also had the good fortune and resources to come here through the "correct" channels. I still think we’ve got plenty of room to let others in, especially those that try and come by boat.

Isn’t that exactly how Captain Arthur Phillip and the First Fleet got here?

Out Of This World

Last night, I went to a talk called Out of This World: An Astronaut Encounter at the Allan Scott Auditorium at UniSA. It was part of the Southern Hemisphere Space Studies program, presented by UniSA and the International Space University, and sponsored by the Australian Space Agency. The speakers were Katherine Bennell-Pegg, who has just been trained as Australia's first female astronaut, and Soyeon Yi from South Korea, who has spent 11 days traveling to and from, as well as living in, the International Space Station. The conversation was facilitated by Anna Cordrey from the International Space University.

Before the talk, I bumped into Katherine in her uniform outside the auditorium, and I asked her if I could take a photo of her. I think she thought I wanted to take a selfie with her, but I literally wanted to take a photo of her alone, which she may have thought was weird, but she didn’t mind. I was going to post the photo on the Facebook page of a society that I manage, but, as you can see, there was a bit of writing on the wall behind her that said "Barbara Hanrahan Building," and I didn’t like how clumsy it looked, so I decided not to use it.

I went to the talk with my friend Andrew, and when we arrived inside the auditorium, a whole chunk of the seats were reserved for UniSA employees, students of the International Space University, and younger students who were on a space camp. We managed to get two seats relatively high up and a little to the left. While we were waiting for the talk to start, I looked at all the people in the room and said to Andrew, "Do you think, out of all these people here, there is someone who has killed another person?"

He sort of laughed, and then I looked at him and said, "Have you?" I was, of course, only joking, but he just looked back at me and said, "I'm not telling you that." My heart stopped for a moment, but then he started laughing. He then went on to say it was highly unlikely that someone in the room had killed anyone because there are so few murders in Adelaide.

That is actually not true—statistically, we have a high murder rate, but I suppose most of those murders are historical now. He then went on to say the most likely way you'd be in the same room with someone who had taken a life would be if there was a Vietnam Vet or someone who had been to war and had killed someone that way. I thought that was an interesting point.

After a professor from the university and the head of the Australian Space Agency gave introductions, the three women sat at the front and started their conversation. I had heard a bit about Katherine because she has garnered a fair bit of publicity as the first person to train as an astronaut under the Australian flag. During the talk, she explained that, because she is a dual UK and Australian citizen, she was able to apply to the European Space Agency's call for astronauts. She was one of 25 people selected out of 22,500 applicants. She will be Australia's first female astronaut.

The Aussies I've heard about who have gone before her, like Philip Chapman, Paul Scully-Power, and Andy Thomas, all trained under different countries' space programs or agencies. Katherine will be Australia's first. She didn’t go into much detail about her personal life, but I know she is married with children, and I am sure it has been difficult throughout her career in STEM to manage a family as well. She is 40 years old.

Soyeon Yi is from South Korea and was the first Korean to fly in space. She spent a total of 11 days in space in 2008 and is now 46 years old. She was quite funny and seemed to have a good sense of humour, talking about things like going to the toilet in space, which I didn't really find funny but she had the audience laughing out loud a couple of times.

Both Katherine and Soyeon talked about the training they undertook to become astronauts, which involved things like learning about food in space, survival training, and even learning a bit about trades because they would be responsible for fixing things on the International Space Station.

The talk itself only went for about an hour and didn’t go too in-depth, but it was a good snapshot of an up-and-coming astronaut and someone who had spent a week and a half on the International Space Station. I was lucky to listen to two highly successful women, both of whom I found to be inspirational and empowering.

As the talk finished, I said to Andrew that I was in awe of these amazing women, but I myself felt like a complete failure at 43, just really restarting my life in comparison to everything they have achieved. Andrew is going through a transitionary phase too, so I came up with the idea that we should both write a letter to ourselves about what we hope to achieve by the end of this year. I will keep his, and he can keep mine, and then, at the end of the year, we can give them back to each other and open them. He took a bit of convincing, but I eventually twisted his arm, and next week I am going around to his house, and we are going to do it.

When I got home last night, I told Mum about the conversation I had with Andrew about being in the same room as a killer, and she added that another, more likely form of killer than a murderer would be someone who has killed someone in a car accident. I thought about that for a brief moment, but then I realised I had had enough of that morbid topic.

Yesterday during the day, I had been at the hairdresser, and I was telling my hairdresser how I was going to the talk. I told her that during question time, I wanted to ask them if astronauts had had sex on the International Space Station. Now, I would actually never ask that question—it is completely inappropriate, especially asking women. But I don’t think the question is entirely unreasonable. I once saw a snippet on the news that joked about astronauts having sex on the space station, and they claimed it had never happened before. But I would put money on it that it has. I have seen some of the astronauts that go up there, and there are some good-looking people, both men and women, and all with scientific minds. I am certain they would be curious to see what happens in zero gravity.

Bottom Of The Barrel

It's 7:39pm on Wednesday, 15 January, and I'm sitting here with my mother, watching the Australian Open. Thanasi Kokkinakis is playing the British player Jack Draper, and I'd like to see Kokkinakis win this game. He looks like he might have injured his right shoulder, but he is playing at the top of his game.

Where I last left off, I told you that I had returned home from Cambodia. My friend Peter from the hotel was sick on the day that I left, but I had left cards with a tip for everyone at front reception, and in his card, I put my number. A few days after I got home, he messaged me, and we started up a conversation.

I am going back to Cambodia in December of this year, and we started talking about when I return. Things were a little bit flirty, and then I brazenly asked if he was married with children. At first, he didn't answer and dodged the question, but then I used Google Translate to say in Khmer that he obviously didn't understand my English. He then answered that yes, he got married three years ago.

Initially, I thought maybe we could have a naughty little affair, but when I logged into Facebook, I saw that he had looked at my profile. The way I could tell this is that when you look at someone's profile on Facebook, you then appear as someone they might know. I never look at anyone's profile because of this, but he appeared as someone I might know, so I added him as a friend.

He accepted me, and I couldn’t believe this, but he had more than 2,500 friends. That is huge; no one I know has that many friends on Facebook. I, myself, have only got 427. After he accepted me, this gave me the ability to search all of his photos, and when I did, I could see photos of him with his wife. She is absolutely gorgeous. I have no idea why he would even be looking at me—that’s if he was in the first place. She also looked like a real sweetie, so any naughty thoughts I'd had about him instantly dissolved.

It's not who I am to have an affair either. I believe all women should stick together and not get involved with each other's husbands and partners. There needs to be a universal sisterhood that adheres to this, and after seeing this beautiful young woman, I realised that that is exactly what I'm going to do.

In saying that, I still really like my friend Peter, so the next morning, I sent him a message that started with, "Good morning, my brother, how are you today?" He then started calling me sister, and that's where we are at now. We message every day and have light conversations, and I love to talk to him. But I've cultivated a situation where things are definitely well within the friend zone between us.

A while back, I told you about Roger. Roger is the widower of my Nanny's niece. We crossed paths around twenty years ago when he was with his then-wife, Eliza, and I found him attractive. He is a tall, big South African with what I thought was a sexy accent.

We crossed paths again at Nanny's funeral, and while we didn't speak there, I messaged him on Facebook when I got home, and we talked for a long time. I found myself slightly attracted to him again until he said some racist things, like he wouldn't let black people into his home, and I cut all contact with him.

I hadn't heard from him since, but on New Year's Day, I got a message from him on Facebook wishing me and a Rebecca a Happy New Year. I wrote back and said thanks, and he said he was currently traveling back from South Africa. Then he said, "chat soon."

I didn't really think anything of it, but then last Friday, I thought I would send him a message and say hi. He was at work, but we got into a conversation. I told him I was writing a book, and he started to give me encouragement about writing it, telling me I was still young enough and I had plenty of time. I didn't like that—it made me feel gross to have him give me intrusive affirmations like that.

Things then got a little bit flirty, and it was something I didn't really know how to get out of. On one hand, he was saying that he had no confidence with women, and then he would start talking about his deceased wife. Then he would say something about how he wants to go down on me and talked about how good he is at that. This made me feel like I was going to throw up.

I should have stopped the conversation as soon as he started talking like that, but I genuinely felt so sorry for him. I think it was a big deal for him to be talking to a woman like that, but in retrospect, it is so disrespectful to me. I don’t know where along the line I gave him permission to talk to me like I'm some kind of whore. Not that there's anything wrong with being a prostitute—it’s the world’s oldest profession, and I support a safe working environment for all sex workers—but for me, it makes me feel disgusting to hear a complete stranger talking to me like that.

He then sent me a dick pic. I was not happy and I had asked him not to. He then kept asking me to send him a photo of myself, and I was just saying there is absolutely no way I would, and I said no. He asked me what my fantasy was, and I was just about to say goodbye when I said I didn’t have one and just out of sheer curiosity I asked him his. This is what he said:

"I like to watch ladies wee on me then eat them out after. And live anal play on both sides. Love lace on a lady too. Please don't think bad of me."

I think he meant "love anal play." I hate myself for my response to this. I didn’t want to be rude about his fantasy, but I was repulsed by it. I recognise that everybody has their secret desires, but to suggest that I would participate in something like this was as insulting as it was nauseating.

I told him I’d never done anything like that, and he asked me if it turned me on. I said that I didn’t know. The conversation wound down pretty quickly after that. He kept saying that he knew he’d turned me off, and the thing is, I couldn’t be turned off because I’d never been turned on in the first place.

He then sent me a meme which said:

"Don't ever put me in a situation where I have to step out of character because I'll show you some colours you didn't know came in the crayon box."

I asked him what he meant by that and he said:

"Different side of me I am a Gemini so I have a twin and he is horrible. Still waiting on your answer did you like what you saw"

So, he got kind of threatening. He then sent me messages saying that I am beautiful, followed by one that finished with, "Don't let anyone tell you different." This is the ultimate backhanded compliment. This man turned out to be so creepy, and this is a classic example of why I don’t want a man of my own.

He continued to ask me to send him photos of myself, which I refused to do, and then he tried to talk dirty, to which I was not responsive. We ended the conversation with Roger saying the ball was in my court and that he would love to have one night with me. I haven’t contacted him since, nor has he contacted me.

I used to think I was a pretty good judge of character. I sometimes get a real sense about someone without being too judgmental. But I was wrong about Roger. I know the reality is, he’s just a man, and by not sticking up for myself, I allowed him to talk to me like I was a cheap piece of trash. I was balancing the pity I felt for him about the death of his wife and the personal disgust I was feeling about what he was saying to me.

I may have misjudged his character, but I have not misjudged my own. It’s not good enough for me to have a random man talk to me in an overtly sexually suggestive manner and make assumptions that I would have sex with him. It is also not good enough for him to then turn around and make threatening remarks because I’m not interested in him. I, and all women, deserve so much better than what this creep has put on the table. I pledge to always stick up for myself and never take any crap like this from any man ever again.

I haven’t been with a man in 12 years this year. I haven’t had much opportunity, haven’t wanted to, and I basically stick to myself. I also know I will never be with anyone again, but if I did, it would be a mutually respectful interaction and not some bottom-of-the-barrel, cheap, and nasty act, which should only be reserved for the toilet.

It's now 10:04pm, and it hasn’t taken me two and a half hours to write this—I’ve been watching the tennis as I’ve been typing away. Kokkinakis is up 2-1 and is winning 4-3 in the fourth set. I love it when the crowd gets behind an Aussie like this. They are on fire tonight, and so is he.

That's Jesus!

It’s now 1:47am on Saturday, the 3rd of January, and I am home safe and sound in Adelaide. I stopped writing this blog during my last few days in Cambodia. I couldn’t tell you why exactly, but I do want to share with you how I finished my trip.

To pick up where we left off, I had asked Tim and Thy if they could find an orphanage for us to visit. Tim had a contact who directed us to a small one just outside of town. There were around 45 children there, and when we arrived, the director took us to a hut where we sat down with some of the children and talked to them about their lives. You can see this below.

They all spoke pretty good English, and the children's ages ranged from 7 to 17. We then walked around the orphanage, and the director told me it is run and funded by the Baptist church. They get volunteers from the Philippines to help out, and they seem to be able to provide everything the children need, which is the main thing. Below, you can see a set of swings on the premises.

There was a chapel area, and I must admit it felt a little strange seeing the presence of Jesus in a country that is 99% Buddhist and 1% Hindu. Instead of churches everywhere, you see monasteries, and they are truly a sight to behold. Below, you can see a photo I took in the chapel of a whiteboard with the words to a song called "The Birthday of a King," as well as another photo I took of a couple of the children and the director.

I wanted to visit an orphanage in Cambodia because I have an interest in orphanages from my time in Tanzania. I have been to a few there and learned about their operations, and the children were absolutely beautiful. Sometimes they sing for you and even show you around the place themselves. I gave the director $100 USD before we left. It was a modest donation, and I would have liked to give more, but that was what fit into my budget.

Another cool place I visited during my final days in Cambodia was a jewellery making workshop at a place called Ammo Jewellery. Their claim to fame is that they make jewellery out of bullets. Below, you can see the entrance to the studio.

It wasn’t really a workshop as such—the owner gave me some jewellery stamps to practice with, and I made selections about what I wanted. Ultimately, it was just a fun way to spend a couple of hours. Below, you can see the tools and stamps laid out on the table.

I selected a ring made out of a bullet, and a young man, who was a master jeweller, sized it up for me and adjusted it. Below, you can see him at work.

I’m really glad I went to this workshop because a local expat jeweller had made two necklaces with the Khmer words for "love" and "peace," which she was selling at the studio. I bought them, and I absolutely love them. I’ve received many compliments from Cambodian women, and just today, while I was at the shop, a woman noticed one of the necklaces and asked me what it meant.

I absolutely love Thy and Tim, both of them as a team. By the end of the trip, I had grown very fond of them—Tim in particular. The three of us had such a good time together, and even though I’ve only been back a few days, I already miss them.

On one of my last nights, we went out to dinner at a large buffet-style restaurant that featured nightly Cambodian dance performances. The dancers were beautiful—both the men and women. Below, you can see some photos I took of the dancers.

I particularly enjoyed one dance they performed where two dancers were dressed as peacocks. Below is a photo of one of the dancers.

Thy didn’t charge me any extra to come to the dinner, which was good—I think we were finally settling into a good rhythm.

Something strange happened to me during the last week or so in Cambodia. I think I mentioned a younger man I referred to as a "ladies’ man," who worked at the front desk and surrounding area. I talked about how I imagined he might have had scandalous affairs with foreign guests. For the purposes of this blog, I’ll call him Phil.

Well, we developed this strange, intense bond. I actually thought something might happen between us—not that I know how it possibly could, given that the hotel would likely have strict rules about staff fraternising with guests. Regardless, we talked a lot and spent time together whenever it was possible while he was working. And the way he looked at me—it was so incredibly sexy.

I was wrong about his age; he’s 35 years old. I felt so old telling him I was 40, and I was also a liar because I’m actually 43. But I was very attracted to him. I don’t know what’s happening to me—more and more, I find myself attracted to men, even though I swore off them for good. If I had been in a position where something could have happened with Phil, I don’t know if I would have acted on it, but I know I would have wanted to.

On one of the last days, Thy and Tim took me to Tonle Sap Lake, which was about an hour and a half out of town. Tim and I went on a fishing boat to see the villages along the lake, including the floating village. You can see the photos below.

I made two interesting discoveries while we were at the lake. The first is that shellfish, similar to small cockles, live in the lake. I find that extraordinary. I took these photos of Tim holding up a shell. I never knew that shellfish could live in freshwater—it's something I’ve learned for the first time in my life.

The second discovery I made was a beautiful mosaicked Buddha overlooking the lake. The Buddha was huge, and it was really hard to photograph the front of it because of its position, but the photos I took should give you an idea of what it’s like.

I mentioned earlier that it felt strange seeing the presence of Jesus in a primarily Buddhist country, and it really was. There isn’t a significant Christian presence in Cambodia —at least not where I was in Siem Reap. Every year around Christmas, I get a little nostalgic for Jesus. Yes, I think he can be passive-aggressive, and he sets a bad example for children by not standing up for himself. I also don’t like his story because it’s very much an "I told you so" kind of tale. But I do believe in him.

Truth be told, I wonder if he’s an alien living on another planet. Because of this connection, I felt compelled to visit the Catholic Church around Christmas, and I knew there would be one in Siem Reap—and I was right.

Tim and I walked onto the church compound, where people were busy setting up for the Christmas service. I showed Tim the nativity scene, which you can see below.

Then we walked up a set of stairs, and there was an altar where I oddly felt at home. We made our way over to the following statue.

Tim asked me, "Who is that?" I found it hard to wrap my head around someone not knowing who this fellow was, but I answered, "That’s Jesus!" He gave me a look that suggested he still didn’t know who Jesus was, so I explained, "He’s the Christ—the one who puts Christ in Christian and Christmas."

In that moment, I had to decide whether I was going to be the one to educate Tim about Christianity, and I decided against it. Whilst I am fully capable of having mature and educated conversations about Christianity,  it wasn’t about that. Tim is a thoughtful man with many ideas and interests, and I wanted Christianity, if it intrigued him, to be his own journey—something he could choose to explore in his own way.

Below, you can see two crucifixes I found around the complex.

On another day before Christmas, we were driving down a main road when I spotted a building with a big sign out front that said The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The Mormons were in Cambodia! I asked Thy to stop the car, and we got out to ask if they had a service on Christmas Day. Unfortunately, they told us they had celebrated on the 21st of December, so I missed out.

Those were the main places I visited before I left. Other than that, Thy, Tim, and I spent a lot of time driving around Angkor Park and having lunch at the hotel. Below, you can see Thy and Tim’s lunch, which came with a huge fish decoration on the plate!

I had bought Thy a brass fish as a going-away present and Tim a brass buffalo and a wooden fish. They both love fishing, and Tim had told me how much he loves buffalo. I wrote them both cards and put $100 in each to express my gratitude for looking after me while I was in Cambodia. Tim had also gotten the names of all the front-of-house staff at the hotel—there were 17 of them—so I bought greeting cards for each of them and put $20 in every card. I put $100 in Phil’s card, as well as in the card for another young man who had helped me a lot.

On the day I left the hotel, Phil was sick, which I was so disappointed about, but I had left him a card with his tip and with my number in it. As I walked out to Thy’s car, all the reception and front-of-house staff came outside, stood together in a row, and waved at me. It was a lovely gesture.

There were no layovers on the way home—a quick flight to Singapore, a few hours’ wait, and then an overnight flight back to Adelaide. On the flight from Siem Reap to Singapore, there were two monks in the waiting area, accompanied by a security guard. Once the business passengers, including myself, began entering the boarding area, some airline staff approached us and asked us to step aside so the two monks could pass. They were then escorted onto the aircraft.

I was sitting across the row from them at the front of the plane, and for some reason, they made me laugh. They were clearly a big deal. Airline staff kept coming up to them to take photos, and they were being treated like royalty. I couldn’t help but see the irony in the situation—two monks, who had presumably sworn themselves to a life of poverty and humility, were sitting at the front of the plane in business class. Also the fact that I think their leader the Dalai Lama, is fuckwit, probably didn’t help my opinion of them.

I laughed even harder when I noticed them digging into shrimp and some other unidentified meat. I thought Buddhists were supposed to be vegetarians! They caught me laughing at them, and I cheekily greeted them with a hello. They smiled and returned the greeting.

When we landed in Singapore, they were the first to disembark, whisked away by their minders. Later, as I walked through the terminal, I saw them again, moving through the crowd with an entourage.

I’m like those monks in a way—a total hypocrite for flying business class. But I’ve made my peace with it, and my business class flatbed gave me a nice little sleep on the overnight flight home.