I’m sitting in a French Bistro is Singapore, it’s call "Le Bistro". I love how we point out the obvious so often in life.… Having a bottle of the “Mercurey 1st Cru 2002, god knows what it is, I think it’s from Bourgogne, it’s not cheap, but then again, wine just isn’t in this city. But first I choose to savour my Campari and soda as I peruse the menu. I’m distracted; listening to Edith Piaf and some big brass band music, my feet are tapping and my head is wobbly (I probably look silly to these people). You know, I could be in a little provence outside Toulouse, my mind is anyway…….right until the moment when my (lovely) local waiter comes to my table and says “mess, mess, you take order now? What you want?”
No no no, I’m having my own little Fleur de les frenchafile night! I started this blog in bed and intend on finishing it in this wonderful fantasiful French love den that I’ve created in my mind! I needed a new scene to inspire an ending of this piece. And, as tonight I was thinking about the other side of my name, I thought I should seek out some inspiration in every frenchie sensory way; music, atmosphere, food and vine….. Undoubtedly I’m the most creative when in the presence of food (and a few sherry’s)!
This city doesn’t know how to cope with 6 ft tall woman on their own in restaurants. There is that 3-second pause of shock horror that they simply can not hide on their faces. Which is quickly followed by the standard line of “you are alone, you have no family or partner with you?” I shouldn’t mock this because the other side of this is a strong family value that the Chinese are incredibly proud of – family and the unity of the family. Pretty much up there with the Japanese and their honour. Fiddledeede, if I was actually in that little village outside Toulouse, if walked in there on my own, I wouldn’t be walking outta of there solo, let me tell you now! I also wouldn’t be drinking this really crap wine that I paid $88 for! I was starry eyes at PoHau pretending he really Jean Pierre when he recommended it.
I’m not a small woman, I think we established that last time; I’m unique in my stature and as such have always attracted colourful nick names. As a young girl it was “Flowerpot”, as a teenager it was “Floz” or “Flozzie” in London it then became “Flowers” or sometimes I was referred to as the “Massively Tall Aussie Bird". As I walked the Camino de Santiago I answered to “Australian Grande” and even on the home soils of Oz, I’m blessed with the name “The Big Sheila” christened by my mum’s boyfriend Big Wal. But, like all good daddy’s should (or rather he was the only fruit cake that would collude with me for delusional purposes) he, god love you Dad, calls me “Little One”. (Still).
In fact, this blog is “powered by” The Big Sheila (how very google of me), you see I liked it so much I started a company in its honour!
Just the other day, I was saying to Fox that no one calls me by a nick name here, and it’s bazaar to hear people actually address me by my name. In Singas people don’t call me by a nickname … yet, or to my face that is. Well I know one guy Tonza calls me “Sesame Street” – Big bird, get it?
When I got my period, aged 12, literally that very year, Libra (Johson products company) decided to launch a brand of tampons called “Fleur” (in my honour ;-) ). I was delighted! Oh yeah great, here we go, I got called names like “Fluffy” and “Silky smooth” but the one I loved the most was my friend Marty hailed me “Snopmat”, which is tampons spelt backwards. Brilliant! I have such a pretty name, yet this is the first country that I’ve lived in that people actually voluntarily call me by my name. Their slogon was “safer than your best Friend”…. Hahahahaha. Check this add out - hilarious
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ESurjntZKX4
Do you know how wonderful it is after 36 years of having so many other identities to be called by my real name? Fleur. Hello Fleur. Say it with me “ hello Fleur”. “Fleur, how the devil are you?” Hmm, Fleur Glover. Fleur Elizabeth Jane Glover. That’s my name. They call me Flowers, they call me Snopmat, that’s not my name, that’s not my name… that not my name… sorry getting all “Ting Tings” on your ass now… (And I’m bopping up and down singing the tune in this bistro, they definitely think I’m wasted!) Have a listen.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iX-7u9OzH9o
We’ve all called each other names in the school yard, fart pants, snot face, fat frog, dork, boring, stupid, moron, looser… ouch, so hurtful to the young undeveloped mind. Yeah and you know what, ahhhh, yeah, what we don’t realise that this sh*t sticks! Why do you think Shrinks are installing new “west wings” and indoor pools each season, because they can… because we called people horrible names when we were growing up. The other side of our jostling for some kind of recognition in the playground is someone else’s psychiatry bill.
Just think about it – you called some kid in the school yard at the age of ten a “short ass, dweep, a looser, Scotty with no mates, you’re so uncool, your stink and we don’t like you so there…” has it ever occurred to you that that =behaviour catapulted “Mr Dweep, looser bits” into spending $35K on therapy per annum, $300K on the Porsche (because he did actually have a small dick) 4 tormented secretaries (who in turn all spend 10K on therapy) $25K on a watch because he’s got to show bling, $2.5M on a house because he’s got to say he lives in some rah rah location, stupid extravagant holidays at bogan resorts….. the list goes on. Has the penny dropped yet, our name calling is quiet possibly be a lead into a self fulfilling prophecy, this dude is undoubtedly a wanker, the tosser extreme… but I can’t help but wonder if we didn’t label the poor kid as a looser in the first place, would have worked so hard to become one? You know people like this right? (We all do!!)
Hmm, just tucking into the rack of lamb, done rare, with pomme dauophinoise, ohhlalala, blur blur blur, hoah hee hoah, la la la! Yumo….
I must be drunk; I’ve just been sold the cheese platter, ohh la la . What do men say about woman getting more attractive when they’ve had a few, well my little singas waiter man is starting to look more and more like Jean-Pierre from my village outside Toulouse with every slurp! The weather really is wonderful in my world. How about yours?
The other side to all of this is a question, is there room from us for a little bit more forgiving and possibly being more open to other people that are not “like us”. If they are not like us, that doesn’t mean they are a looser or a dweep, it actually means they challenge the state that we feel comfortable in. When our comfort zone is threatened, we react. We push on to the other (and especially if we innately sense they are weaker than us), they are in fact wrong, yes, you’re different, immature or misinformed. (noticed the dialogue has some what shifted from the playground antics, but in essence is just a person with 30 more years under they belt!).
Ohhh, the crème brulee just arrived. A trio of earl grey, ammerato, and vaniall pod… ohh heavan. Ohh la la la, crunch through the toffee top… yuuummmmm (sorry back in Toulouse hoah heee hoah)
There are mild and violent patterns of this behaviour all of the world; look at Nelson Mendela – all that his country men endured… a country that was desperate for reform and structure, policy and a strong rein. And this is where developed economies need to stop and take a take note with earnest… policy and reform is not human existence, it’s not humanity. Nelson Mendela”s inaugural address to parliament was nothing about politics or country policy, rather it was about was all about….
“…why would should you have not right to shield your flame or hide your light behind a bushel - you are then denying others the permission to shine their lights!!...”
Please take a moment to read this speech
I love the line “We are all meant to shine, as children do.”
Australia has the tall poppy syndrome, a well known “I’ll tear you down if you’re better than the average bear” syndrome. It’s boring and it’s partly one of the reasons I don’t feel that I have ever belonged in that country. Sometimes I feel that our lovely aussies can point out the negative ten feet in front of them. Even Rudd’s got no hope to inspire people to shine, he’s just a plastic fantastic prepared PR man’s speech from the shower that day.
Think about that. You have the right to shine.
Often people find comfort in migrating to or working within packs – and when you step out of the pack, the force of those people will be that they will create a situation to draw you back in. But in actual fact, if you stand your ground, hold onto your light and keep being fabulous in your own way, people will break out of the pack and come join you or, equally do their own unique and special thing… you watch. It works. I haven’t experimented on rats I promise you, just real human experience.
As the great man Mendela said:
“Depending on the lifestyle we lead, we develop into a creature of great hope and growth on one hand, positive and virile in character. On the other hand, if too much darkness is present in our earlier existence, we stumble forward with lack of hope and integrity and we therefore spend a lifetime in ever-growing fear due to the negativity and lack of hope within”.
To read the whole speech – check this out:
http://jmm.aaa.net.au/articles/4564.htm
I thoroughly believe we don’t compliment each other enough, nor do we acknowledge own unique beauty openly.
Go and have a chat to the mirror today and tell yourself you’re amazing… then tell some one your meet up with one thing you think it unique, interesting, special about them.
Pay it forward. We all deserve to shine.
Have a great day!
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Fleur
The Big Shiela.
**Crickey, Edith and I, and all that name dropping cost me $224.00 Sing dollars!!
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