To know me is to fly with me….

This famous opening monologue of Ryan Bingham in ‘Up in the Air’ is one that has been a regular reference point as I share my travel-blogging tales however, this holiday weekend, as I sit amidst the laundry of a southern hemisphere suitcase and plan the contents of an uncertain weathered northern hemisphere suitcase, I have stopped to consider if my cinematic counterpart is, in fact, more of a nemesis than an alter-ego.

My accrued April airtime, so far, has crossed 3 continents in 15 days and has resulted in a climate control and sleep navigation system urgently requiring re-engineering. Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing as rewarding than the great fortune to travel the globe and see so many far flung places but, as I unpack and repack I wonder perhaps…is the real redemption for frequent flyer air miles a catalogue choice of multiple personalities every time we cross multiple time-zones?

When the novelty of life in a suitcase becomes commonplace it is hard to recall the glamour of the jet set that is so commonly perceived by the average land lubber. We may no longer have to face the early morning daily commute at the wheel, but I wonder …does the jet-set rush-hour road-rage simply check-in as a new OCD in the sky-high human bird cage, or is the trauma of travel a dilemma that evolves with age?

I never feel too great after a flight, regardless of travel ticket class. Thinking back I recall days of the girls summer trek to the Costa, where tightly packed on an economy flight with a paid-for piña-colada was a dream come true. Now, by comparison, even with silver service meals, a personalised protein menu, cashmere flight socks and sound proof earphones ...how is it that the only thing I really want to do when I reach my destination is to get on a plane for a vacation?

A flat bed is a must, unreservedly. But, regardless of 8 hours DVT preventative sleep, there are certain lines of latitude and longitude where travelling elegantly seems to take a leap from the plane in parachute silk, only to be replaced with the prospect of excess baggage charges on arrival rather than at departure and, despite checking in for top-deck jumbo, I am sure to check out as ground-level blimp...

On-board, my gold membership of the frequent flyer club boasts an obsession with cleanliness that would be the envy of any terra firma home-maker. My roll-on bag, forever electronically equipped for a full shift of onboard business, is now as chemically ready for a total blitz of airborne germs and illness and, as I stock-check what were once dedicated pockets for sockets with new wipes and antiseptics I wonder .....at what stage will my in-flight oddities qualify as an on-board paramedic?

So, as I fast forward airport CCTV to complete my latest travelling photo album I wonder ....does the essence of being a frequent flyer simply mean the airplane cabin is now my castle or, just how many miles remain before I claim squatters rights?

'Til next time, Pandora

Aussie Rules - Who Dares Wins...

As strange as it sounded to many, during my recent Asian travels I took a weekend break to Australia. Admittedly not the typical place for a few days away but, already located south of the Equator and with acute synchronisation of the red-eye travel I normally try to avoid, I was able to engineer close to a full 72 hours for a refresher visit with family and still make it in time for the office on Monday.

There are many myths about life Down Under and whilst I can dispel those that people, animals, cars, trains and buses do not in fact operate upside down, that the only people alluding to a Crocodile Dundee cork trimmed hat are the tourists (usually drunk) and that water does not flow in the opposite direction, as I embarked on my 72 hour whistle stop tour of WA I did have to contemplate….is the slow pace of life down-under as simple as the effects of  the laws of reversed gravity or, is it simply the sunshine that slows down life the further south you move from the Equator?

Akin to their northerly neighbours, the Australian pace of life is as aligned to the equatorial equilibrium that is found from Europe to the Americas, where days get hotter then life gets slower.

However, as I moved around my western slice of Australia, I wondered…does the mañana theory really transcend to every sun filled city between the Tropics of Cancer and Capricorn or just how much of Aussie rules is actually less about laissez-faire and more about self-service?

With coffee shops and bars lining every street, harbour, beach and mall it is clear that tea- breaks and pit-stops play a priority time-out in the the Australian every day game and, if Aussie Rules is the game of ultimate invasion, then surviving a trip down under needs first division tactics. Stand in queue and you may very well wait to mañana - in the Aussie rule book ‘queue’ is spelled ‘me’ and there is no such thing as first come first served. Shout and be served, follow etiquette and fall to the back of the non-line.

So, as I dispel another myth of sunshine hospitality, I search to re-unite with my city blinkers and wonder …is there a speed limit for life in the fast lane down under that should be introduced to colder climes or do we all, in fact, play by the Aussie Rules?

'Til next time, Pandora

It’s the Inside that Counts…

We are indoctrinated to believe that it’s what's inside that counts, that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I don’t necessarily disagree with the mantra, but I do prefer to be a little more practical – always aim to please the beholder but most certainly endeavour to maintain an inner chi. I mean, let’s face it, is anybody perfect?

Before we get too caught up in a debacle over the importance of the inner you versus the outer you, however, my blog this week reflects on the importance of interiors of a different sort – our handbags. Not medically proven to be totally the root cause of my current consultation for back pain, this week as I listened to the advice of my lesser fashion-conscious physiotherapist I wondered ....could it really be down to my relationship with LV that my big bag trend is impacting my ability to properly bend?

Just as mobile phones threatened our brains and a life of texting and gaming risks a population with preposterously large thumbs, I wonder…is the ailment of the fashion victim to be health hindered dependent on the size of his / her handbag/manbag?

I’m often bemused at the constant magazine articles that tell us the 6 things in the A-lister designer bag that they just cannot live without . As I think of my own day to day changing needs in a routine that that morphs day to night without the A-list demands, I wonder if perhaps it is the advertising endorsement of the 6 essentials that is so life critical, espeically when there is an entourage to lug the rest on their behalf? Indeed, for the average ‘NeverFull’ Handbag Joe, isn’t it more realistic that what we really want and need is a never empty?

Wallet, lipstick, mobile, camera, flat shoes (heels to change), mints, boarding passes, passports, bottled water, keys, sunglasses, mini umbrella, ipad, ipod and the travelling plastic bag of liquids and cosmetics – not one of the more than 6 essentials could realistically be removed from daily life and, as I satisfyingly return the contents of my latest possession carrying obsession, I wonder ...is the reason we buy big not really because a life 'on the go' doesn’t mean that we can go without?

So, before you rush out to purchase a padded neoprene rucksack to carry life’s little essentials, stay true to your fashion judgement and 'Go Large'. That, or find yourself a different fashion accessory who is happy to carry your keys, phone and high heels on your behalf…

'Til next time, Pandora