Join Kate as she travels around the world, to many different places, to see many different faces - including Europe, the United States, Asia and her homeland, Australia.
Ruth and I had awoken early and gone up to the main breakfast area before the masses arrived. It was barely 7am when we could hear the loud sound of a helicopter. Just as we finished breakfast, an announcement came over the ship radio from the Captain, indicating that there was a critically ill person on board who needed to be evacuated as soon as possible. The Captain informed the passengers that there was nothing to be alarmed about, however a US Coast Guard helicopter would be arriving shortly and undergoing the transfer of the patient from the ship to the helicopter. We would all need to stay a certain distance away from the tip of the boat, as that would be where the transfer would occur. Like paparazzi to a celebrity, I raced up to the top deck with my camera. Much of the boat’s passengers were still sound asleep, but those who were awake all came up to the deck to watch – and boy, did we get a performance!
Well, what can I say – other than that what we witnessed was an amazing operation by a very skillful US Coast Guard. I later spoke with some US passengers who were familiar with the kind of training that the US Coast Guard need to do in order to pull off such a stunt, and believe me, these guys were unbelievable. Despite the wind howling, the helicopter was kept as still as possible as they lowered the basket to collect the person. The helicopter was so close to the deck of the ship that it was little wonder that it did not hit it – but that helicopter was under such control and everything was done with such precision, that the onlookers could not help but cheer and clap as they completed the exercise.
A bad back has its benefits. It enabled us to get on the boat quicker than everyone else because “VIP Guests and the Physically Challenged” were able to board first. We “cruised” on past the waiting thousands and I tried my best to look like a VIP, rather than a Physically Challenged.
The first thought was “oh my goodness, this place is a floating amusement park”. When you step onto the boat, it overwhelms you with its size, and then secondly, by the sheer number of colours that clash together. The carpets are a mix of vibrant pinks and purples, the walls are shades of aqua and there’s wallpaper on walls with drawings of Pirates. It’s a little “kitschy”, and there are gold trimmings, flashing neon signs, and glass encased lifts but then again, it is after all a family cruise ship and not the Queen Mary II.
Everyone was then allowed on board but the rooms were not accessible for another hour and a half. Having travelled for twenty four hours straight, Ruth and I were eager to get to our rooms, but like everyone else, we needed to wait. We found ourselves a comfortable chair each in one of the various restaurants, and we were able to sit quietly and look across the New York skyline while eating from the salad bar. Soon enough though, the rooms were opened and Ruth and I headed straight in, not even bothering to look around the ship. We needed sleep, desperately.
We woke up in time for the safety talk (which we managed to avoid by convincing our Steward that we would promise to read the booklet) and then the boat begun to set sail. The blue skies, sadly, had disappeared and it had become quite windy and cool. For this reason, Ruth decided to stayed on the room balcony but I excitedly raced up to stand on the top deck with the masses.
Setting sail was simply breathtaking. Despite the weather having turned, everyone stood at their balconies waving, boats that we passed blew their horns and the cruise ship’s horn bellowed in response every so often. It was as though the entire New York Harbour stopped to let us through. As we made our way towards the Brooklyn Bridge, we looked up to see an NYPD helicopter heading towards us. It ended up playfully flying over us, alongside us, around us at least four or five times and you could see the officers waving. Coincidently, I have since met the holidaying NYPD detective who had arranged for his friends to “fleece” the cruise ship on its way out.
The wind on the top deck was howling and clouds had come in, making it quite cold - it didn’t seem as though we were heading to the Caribbean! At one point, it became so windy it was hard to stand still to take photos. Still, I clung on to the railings with many others, who were eagerly awaiting the sight of the Statue of Liberty. I waited and waited, craning my neck to see where she was. I soon learned that I was in fact standing on the wrong side of the boat, and the Statue of Liberty had been in sight for at least ten minutes prior! Dear me.
It will be another one of those “traveling moments” that I will always remember. In the same way as seeing the Eiffel Tower and London’s Houses of Parliament, I stood there in awe, clicking away with my camera enthusiastically. Just like the Eiffel Tower and the Houses of Parliament, I now have about one hundred photos of the Statue of Liberty, at different angles, different distances and different sizes!
After we left the New York Harbour, and for much of the evening thereafter, Ruth and I slept. We were jetlagged and not ready to join the party just yet. As the boat rocked, I fell asleep, dreaming of days ahead…
As the plane touched down into the John F. Kennedy Airport, New York, I felt tears well in my eyes. For many years, New York had been the one place I had always dreamed of visiting. For the girl that had traveled everywhere, New York was the place that would always be unreachable...
Virgin America’s A-320 descended easily into New York at 5.30am after a smooth flight across the continent. I had not closed my eyes from the time the plane took off from LAX to the time it touched the tarmac at JFK. I was far too excited to bother about sleeping. While I passed some time by excitedly consuming copious amounts of airplane coffee, I for the most part sat and listened to my Ipod whilst staring out the window. I watched the states pass underneath me, destinations which sounded familiar only because of storybooks and television shows. Los Angeles, Colorado (hi EC!!), Iowa, Ohio and Pennsylvania were each greeted with an excited smile, as I eagerly watched as the little plane icon move closer and closer to New York. There was always something to keep me occupied – from the lights of Denver, the electrical storm that rolled in underneath us over Chicago to the red, burnt orange and neon blue glow created by the sun rising over the states of Pennsylvania and New York.
The sheer size of JFK airport is hard to fathom and with over nine terminals in the precinct, there was always going to be a risk that I would not find Ruth, who had traveled from LA to New York on a different and slightly earlier flight. Surprisingly though, she had found her way to Terminal Four and we literally bumped into each other within minutes of me coming out of the departure gates. We made our way out of JFK on the Airtrain to Jamaica Station, where we took the New York Subway to 50th Street in Manhattan. Throughout the journey, I would experience random bursts of excitement, which usually arose from seeing familiar names on signs – Manhattan, the Bronx, Queens, 5th Avenue…I was finally in New York. The surprising thing was that, despite being barely 7.00am on a Saturday morning, there was always a kind man or two to assist us to pull our bags through subway station or drag them across platforms into lifts.
Either Manhattan has a large population of gentlemen, or they were still drunk from the prior night…?
It only seemed fair that our first stop in New York was a Starbucks on the corner of 50thStreet and 8th Avenue (that said, at 7.00am, there was little else open in New York to put our bags and our weary selves!). We had five hours to pass before we were able to board the cruise ship, so for a couple of hours, Ruth played around on the internet while I ventured outside for a quick wander around Times Square and Broadway. It did not seem right to sit in a coffee shop while New York was waking up around me!
Despite my weary eyes, I wandered around a few of the blocks around 50th Street, and I found myself rubbing my eyes in amazement as Times Square came into view. I couldn’t help but let out a little squeal as I walked past the “Ed Sullivan Theatre”, home of the Late Show with David Letterman, and I must admit, I did a little tap dance past where Chicago is being staged on Broadway. I even threw out a few “glitter fingers” as I saw the theatre that housed “Mamma Mia”.
I also managed to avoid being mown down at the traffic lights by looking both ways (cars drive on the wrong side of the road in the US!).
The sun had risen in New York and the sky was a clear blue as we arrived at the bustling Manhattan Terminal. The Carnival Miracle was parked at its berth and the sheer size of the boat took my breath away. A few happy snaps of the boat ensued. The large crew was busily unloading passengers whilst another prepared the boat for the oncoming guests. It was a hive of activity, which I found a little overwhelming, given that I had a “proper” sleep in over 24 hours. Tired and irritable, Ruth and I still managed to drag our bags through the terminal, dodging large tour groups, wedding parties, families, limousines, forklifts, lorries, over-tanned post-cruise couples, wheelchairs, drink vendors, suitcases and security in order to find two seats. We were grateful to find two seats, where we sat and waited until it was time to board.
....."oh, but before you step into the Home of the Brave, we need your right hand's four fingerprints, your right thumb, your left four finger prints and left thumb and kindly look into the camera and don't worry, Ma'am, the body cavity search won't hurt a bit."
Okay, there was no body cavity search, but I still couldn't help but feel a little violated as I walked, stamped passport in hand, away from US Customs to collect my bags. I suspect that I could have walked through in a nun's outfit and I would have watched closely. First lesson in America? Everyone is a criminal until your fingerprints prove otherwise!!
After two movies, three episodes of some un-funny american sitcoms and a little bit of friendly chatter to those around me, I managed to arrange my body into a comfortable enough position in order to commence what would end up being a relatively blissful slumber. Thanks to V Australia's inflight entertainment system and the sleeping tablets dispensed by that friendly Malaysian doctor I had prior to coming on this trip, the flight was quite stress-free. V Australia is a good airline with decent food, good facilities and a flight crew that look like they would far better suit a Victoria's Secret or Dolce & Gabbana catalogue. If only United Airlines would trade their old hostesses for new V-Australia-like upgraded versions... ho hum.
Thirteen hours and about twenty newly-mastered body contortions later, Los Angeles came into view through my Boeing 777's cabin window. I couldn't help but whistle "California Girls" by the Beach Boys - sadly though, there was no view of the sprawling Californian beaches and no red-bikini'd Pamela Anderson/David Hasslehoff-like lifeguards below - but there was an awesome view of the numerous six-lane highways that criss-cross around the city like you'd imagine a lego-land to have.
LAX is a mess of an airport. Its the Airport That Time Forgot. Not only it is mid-way through disorderly construction that looks never to be completed, it isn't the most welcoming of travel destinations. They shuffle you around with miltary-style precision, bark orders at you like Boot Camp Sargeants and you feel just about ready to collect your tangerine-orange jumpsuit and get placed in your cell. This all could also be due to the fact that I have just spent the last six months in the large airport-hubs of Asia only to be booted down decades-old hallways and across moving escalators that...well, dont move.
Complaining aside, the minute I arrived in Los Angeles, I was content to pretend (just for a moment) that I was in a 1992-type Hollywood movie. I couldn't help but giggle as I passed a "airport policeman" with Tom-Cruise-like aviation glasses and jodphurs a size too small for him. It was only the fact that I was busting to go to the bathroom that saved me from stopping, taking a photo and singing the "Magnum" theme to him as I passed by. After that, a couple of young teenage girls walked past in jean-shorts and caps and I had to stop myself from shouting in my best cheerleader voice "BE AGGRESSIVE, B-E AGGRESSIVE" but I didn't think i'd have the energy to finish it off with a high-kick so i left it.
Anyway, we are now just about to jump on a flight to New York and wooooooooohhh-oooooooooooooo I am excited. Excited, excited, excited!!! I will report back once we settle into New York. We have about six hours to wait before boarding the cruise ship, so there shall be another update in about ten hours.
As I sit and pack my bags ready to head to New York, I think about a lot of things... where I was when I decided that I was going on this big trip to the USA... making a commitment to myself to make sure that 2009 was going to be the year of doing things i have always dreamed... working out that it was time for me to sort my "stuff" out... deciding that Singapore was the right thing to do... leaving my family... starting up a new life.
However, I find that as I try to reflect on it all, seek the drama and try to drag some kind of meaning out of it, I come away feeling a little empty handed... and I don't mean in a bad way.
You see, as a result of a couple of things that have happened recently (both personally and professionally), I have been forced to "pull my socks up" and realise that not everything needs to be so dramatic or convoluted. That often things "are what they are". Perhaps its time I actually stopped the impulsive, reactionary behaviour that comes from wanting to control everything and everyone around me in order to avoid being hurt or disappointed.
Yes, its important that I deal with issues honestly and openly, but there can be a great deal of peace obtained in letting things "be". Not every issue needs to have a complicated emotion attached to it, not everyone needs to have an ulterior motive - but in turn not everything needs to fit easily inside a little box of "goodness". My life does not need to be like a jigsaw puzzle.
Rather than try and control everything, perhaps its time i put a little faith in others and simply let things "be". Perhaps this is me growing up.
.... I am kind of excited about today's news that Sarah Palin has indicated that she is resigning from her post as Governor of Alaska in October....
It goes without saying that this move is so that Sarah Palin can begin to prepare for the 2012 White House Race.
Political differences aside, I actually look forward to seeing Sarah Palin prepare herself for 2012. I think that she learned some incredibly important lessons in the 2008 White House Race and I think we are going to see a far more confident, polished politician in Palin in the next couple of years.
I am actually a budding interior designer. Well, I would like to think so! Actually, I am not, but I once did an interior design course at the local school and I loved it - and learned so much!
When I "grow up", I want a house... not an apartment, and I want to design it beautifully....
The only problem is, I can imagine that once I go and design and fit a room, I will probably want to start again just for the fun of it... this interest could one day become an expensive habit...!
Maybe one day (umm.. not sure when that may be!), I shall have a city apartment so that I can stay then when i need to work and then have a country house for the weekends and holidays....
THE COUNTRY HOUSE
The country house would be designed in old traditional style....with a load of neutrals and whites but with discrete but complex fabrics...
I would have a beautiful white sitting room....just a small one....with a big fat white Persian cat to sleep in the sunshine...!
And my guest rooms will be elegantly designed....
The guest bathrooms would be small, but designed well....
I would adore a vanity room, off the master bathroom, where i could do my hair and makeup...
Given the light neutral colours of the other rooms, I would want a strong formal dining room while still keeping the chateau theme...
And a relatively bold formal dining room, for those weekend dinner parties!!!
LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Please note that each of these pictures are outlined on this website and each are attributable to their respective designers. I do hold out that these designs are my own, nor do I hold any ownership in the above. Please refer to the above website for all details of each room!
See what happens when I fracture my back?? I get bored and begin to do crazy things like design houses...
Watch this space for the modern apartment design ideas....
My city apartment will be completely different to my country home. My city apartment will have big bold colours with minimalist furniture.
A sleek, simple but resourceful kitchen!
I looooove black stylish bathrooms. But I want a clear glass bathtub. I once saw it on Grand Designs and havent seen one since....
You will see that these pictures feature on an awesome interior design website called :
http://freshome.com/
LEGAL DISCLAIMER: Please note that each of these pictures are outlined on this website and each are attributable to their respective designers. I do hold out that these designs are my own, nor do I hold any ownership in the above. Please refer to the above website for all details of each room!
I loved this sight. A man was showing his two young sons the koi fish, swimming in the pond. If I have children, I would want them to learn about everything the world has to offer!
It is time that I addressed something a little personal, a little controversial but something very important to me. This piece of writing is tough going but it is an issue that I have worked on for many years to try and come to terms with....
Today, after I had completed my exercises at the local swimming pool, I couldn't face the thought of going home to bed. So, Mum and I went to Campbelltown Arts Centre, where we had coffee.
Mum and I were sitting down talking about life and all of its challenges when I looked up to see a group of four older women making their way past my table. There they were, four of my high school teachers, women who I had not seen in over thirteen years. I stood up from my seat, stepped forward and reached out to one, in particular. I gave her my full name and I watched as I saw the delight spread across her face.
Yes, she said, she remembered me well.
In 1996, in the early stages of Year 11, I was terribly disobedient. I was placed in her class because I had come within an inch of failing Year 10. I was out of control and I cared very little about school. I was identified very early on as a problem and I was required to sit towards the front of the class so that she could control me as best as possible.
The Early Acceleration
I look back and it is easy to see what had gone wrong. I was barely fifteen while the majority of my classmates were seventeen or older. They had decided to accelerate me into school when I was just four years old. They believed that at four years old, I was showing enough intelligence and maturity to allow me to go to school with my older sister. They accelerated me into school and then left it at that.
They said that to accelerate me further would have been disastrous for my upbringing. Looking back, I think the school believed that they would rather a student sit comfortably in a grade and do well, than lift her to a higher one, challenge her and manage the disadvantages carefully. It was far better to allocate what resources the school had to assist those who required "Special Education" (those with learning difficulties and behavioural problems) than to dedicate resources to accelerated students.
The Younger Years
I was placed into school at four years of age and I was left to settled into mediocrity. I went through primary school with average marks in english and maths because I had no one to tell me that I was smart. Instead, I had plenty of people telling me that I was "the young one" that probably was a little too young to be with the big kids. Whenever I was given a new teacher, I was only ever placed on their radar because I was the youngest, and the one most likely to do "immature things". They were, in a way, right. I talked incessantly, i copied homework from my best friend who was at the time known as the smartest girl in grade and I used to deliberately do naughty things - not because i was a naughty child - but because it was so I could get attention. Any attention was still attention as far as I was concerned.
Mediocrity and harmless disobedience was the theme throughout my junior school and the majority of my high school years. I do not recall achieving anything at school. I was once picked to attend a sporting camp with the older children and that made me proud and I was a district champion at swimming, but when it came to academic achievement, I barely registered 5.0 on the richter scale.
Very early on in school though, I found skating. It became the very foundation of my self esteem throughout primary school and more importantly, in my early teenage years. My life revolved around skating. The day I became old enough to legally work, I was given an after school job at the skating rink, where I worked at any chance given. I began racing, I began teaching, and I became known as "the really good skater". Skating was everything and school was nothing.
The Year I Was Forced to Confess
Year 11 was going to be like every other year that had passed. I had gotten quite good at manipulating the school system, and had mastered the art of doing as little as possible while doing enough to get me over the line. It was not hard and I had actually formed a sort of arrogance about my ability to manipulate the system. I knew and understood the work, but with no real desire to do it and with no one really watching, it did not register on my scale of importance. I'd spend my days disrupting the class, the afternoons skating, and the late nights doing the bare minimum for the following day's class.
This Year 11 English teacher took me into her class and like the USS Constellation, she set out to seek and completely destroy me. She was determined to catch me out at any chance. She would, at any point during the class, turn to me to ask me what my view was. She would hold me back at the end of class so that she could read every word that I had written (or in many cases, confirm the very fact that I had not written a thing).
I saw this as a threat to my comfortable and happy existence at the school. I became frustrated and angry at the negative attention I was receiving as a result. She was humiliating me in the worst way possible. Instead of making it appear as though she was bullying me, she made it look as though she was actually favouring me. Soon enough, I was being teased for being "the teachers pet". At this point, I was not sure whether I was frustrated more for being the teacher's pet or for the fact that all of a sudden, i needed to account for the work i was supposed to have been doing.
The only way that I could get her off my back was to do the work, answer the questions when asked, and sink into the background quietly. However, somewhere in between her hassling me and me sinking into the background, I became interested in the content. I soon realised that she was deliberately asking me the harder questions and I was actually answering them with ease.
The Reformation
Over the course of eighteen months, this woman threw challenges at me, time and time again. She would mark me hard and she would never allow me to answer questions simply. I was not allowed to make assumptions and I was not allowed to shrug and say I did not know.
Soon enough, my development in english class spread out to that of the other classes. I began to rise up in the ranks of the middle-level classes and pull above average marks. I even recall a classmate saying to me at one point "I didn't know you were smart". I let those comments slide at the time, because I did not understand why it was that I was all of a sudden doing well.
In the end, I managed to obtain the third highest mark in my grade for the final high school exams. While it was not an excellent score from a state-wide perspective, it was enough to scrape into law school.
The rest is history. I entered an environment that constantly threw challenges at me. I was literally battling for survival on a daily basis with the content. It was the perfect place for me to be. I ended up graduating from law school with first class honors.
Did They Do The Right Thing By Me?
To this very day, I struggle to come to terms with whether the administrators of my junior school did the right thing by accelerating me only by one year. While I am not searching for someone to blame for my failures at school, I want to ensure that, should I go on to have children, the same thing will not happen to them. I wonder what would have happened to me had I not registered on this one teacher's radar. I think that we all can guess where I would have been had it not happened. I do not want it to happen to my children.
To this day, I believe that they chose not to accelerate me when I was young because they believed that it would have been "too hard". I fell into my school's "too hard basket" and to this day, despite the fact that I went on and used my own initiative to succeed, it angers me that I was not given more of a helping hand.
They believed their resources were far better used to (a) celebrate those who fell into the mould of "normal smart children" - those who were of the intelligence expected for their age; and (b) help those children who were disadvantaged. Also, if they had have placed me in a grade higher, I would have been three to four years younger than my fellow classmates. They assumed that I would not be able to handle the pressures of my peers and that it was possible for a child to interact appropriately with older children.
To put it simply, they rathered I sit there quietly (or in my case, not so quietly) and obey the education rulebooks, than break the mould, take some chances and challenge me. They made an assessment of me at the early age of 4 years old, pidgeon-holed me into a category and figured I would find my own way. Thankfully I did. However, it was a close call.
Championing the Need for True Accelaration
In recent years, I have formed some very special relationships with a couple of people who were accelerated by three or four years. I am talking about true accelaration. While their acceleration was not without challenges, it proved to be a worthwhile exercise and each of them are now working towards becoming future leaders.Personally, they have been instrumental to my understanding of who I once was and who I am today - and have assisted me in reconciling the two. They are strong advocates for the acceleration of children in schools and I stand alongside them on this issue.
I wholeheartedly believe in the accelaration of children in schools and I want to encourage people to look beyond the traditional definitions of "an intelligent child" to form an greater understanding of what some children need. I want to be an advocate of broadening the common schooling framework so that more resources can be allocated towards the identification of kids who may not be falling within the "cut and dry" category of "smart". Ironically, the year after I left that junior school, a new principal arrived. This new principal had been amongst a group of academics who championed the idea of student accelaration. They introduced an accelaration programme the year after I left. More schools are now instituting programmes such as these and this is promising.
A Chance to Say Thank You.
Today, I was given just a split second to shake the hand of the woman to whom I owe much of my success. The greeting occured unexpectedly and lasted only two minutes. I was able to tell her that I had gone on to law school, that I was now working internationally, and that I was doing okay. I gave her a hug and I let her go.
I stumbled across these lyrics tonight.... just thought i would post them and see whether they ring true for anyone out there.... the downside is that "curly-locks" Michael Bolton had the honour of singing this for the Hercules movie... the upside is that its a pretty darn powerful song which (thank goodness) makes you forget who sings it.....
I have often dreamed, of a far off place Where a hero's welcome, would be waiting for me Where the crowds will cheer, when they see my face And a voice keeps saying, this is where I'm meant to be
I'll be there someday, I can go the distance I will find my way, if I can be strong I know ev'ry mile, will be worth my while When I go the distance, I'll be right where I belong
Down an unknown road, to embrace my fate Though that road may wander, it will lead me to you And a thousand years, would be worth the wait It might take a lifetime, but somehow I'll see it through
And I won't look back, I can go the distance And I'll stay on track, no, I won't accept defeat It's an uphill slope, but I won't lose hope Till I go the distance, and my journey is complete
But to look beyond the glory is the hardest part For a hero's strength is measured by his heart
Like a shooting star, I will go the distance I will search the world, I will face its harms I don't care how far, i can go the distance Till I find my hero's welcome, waiting in your arms
I will search the world, I will face its harms Till I find my hero's welcome, waiting in your arms
You can find a live version of Michael singing this (sans-hair) on: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJfc1jdCL2s
Today, my mother confronted me about a comment I made the other night about my home town, Campbelltown. It was an unfavourable one. Today, she reminded me that I should never forget where I came from. She reminded me that everything she (and my father) have, and gave to me, is proudly owned and paid for.
Having moved from my home town in my early 20's, into the city of Sydney, I admit that I felt a great deal more freedom than I felt when I was in Campbelltown. The world, at that point, became larger. I learned that living was not necessarily about the "nine to five grind, the three bedroom house, the two point five kids and the family sedan". I felt as though the suburban population were wasting away whilst that while everyone in the city were exploring. When I moved to the city, I would watch as each morning, people would jump on sailboats, go out for picnics, explore museums, drink wine with friends, go to concerts... all of the things that I loved became accessible.
Having now gone to Asia, and having seen the kind of poverty that exists in the world, I realise how lucky I am and I realise that my mother is indeed correct. I may joke and taunt my hometown for all of its perceived failings, but at the end of the day, this is where I was raised and I would not be who I am today without having grown up there. For those that know me well, despite where my career has taken me, I at least hope I have remained unashamedly down to earth.
Kate is 30 years old, originally from Sydney Australia. She loves photography and travelling. She is an experienced corporate lawyer, but is taking some time out to experience the world. She loves her family dearly, including her two little nieces, Charlotte and Ella, and also loves her bike, a fully custom carbon fibre Kuota Kharma. She lives by the beach.
