My first book in more than four years has been published on Amazon. If you’re curious about what it’s like to start a new life in a developing Asian country as a single expat woman of a “certain age”, this book will tell all, including: – what it’s really like to live in Vietnam – expat jobs, particularly freelancing – problems of living in Vietnam – pros and cons of living in Vietnam – cost of living in Vietnam – whether Vietnam is safe for expats. Part diary, part memoir and part travel guide, Vietnam: It Seemed Like A Good Idea
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My darling daughter, On Mother’s Day, every year, I like to remember when you were born. You came into the world at 2:07 am on March 24, 1993. It was the happiest, most joyous, wonderful day of my life. When you were born, I held you in my arms—after a two-days-plus labour that ended in a Caesarian Section—and you looked up at me with your huge eyes, so peaceful. So calm. So trusting. I fell in love with you there and then. The truth is: I fell in love with you before you were born. I left your father when
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Content warning: this essay talks about sexual assault. Mine. If you are triggered or need help, please contact a Sexual Assault Service. I’ve not thought about it often and when I do, it’s not for long, because I’ve buried it. And I want it to stay buried. But now, at this time in Australia, where women are railing against the government in angry protests about sexual assaults in Parliament House and wider society, where our Prime Minister says women should be grateful they aren’t shot for protesting, I’ve been triggered. The memory is haunting me. It scars my days. Permeates my nights. A naked man, penis erect, hand
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I’m missing Hanoi like crazy. So much so, that when I see pictures, I get quite teary. I have flashbacks where I see myself walking to the supermarket, cycling to Keep Hanoi Clean, strolling to my Vietnamese lessons at Oriberry, chilling in my apartment and waiting for my Vietnammm order while rain pours down in sheets, taking a Grab to the Old Quarter, going out to eat a cheap and cheerful vegan buffet with dear friends. I miss the conversations, the convenience, the connections. I miss the many things to do. That’s not to say that I’m not grateful to
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Buying a new frock is not an activity I relish. I wish it were. I want to be one of those women who catches a glimpse of a something shiny on a rack on the far side of the store, tries it on, loves it and whips out her credit card, all within the space of five minutes. Me? I prowl the floor like a hungry snow leopard, and after much deliberation, grab an armful of frocks that seem promising, try them on, hate them and repeat the process until I end up hating myself. At 57, I blame my
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Being a mother was something I always wanted, despite (or because of?) my own childhood. Let’s just say my own mother was less than nurturing and had a violent, nasty streak that meant my psyche was hammered out on an anvil of fear, forged in survival. I knew I could do better, and I did. I wasn’t perfect, mind you, but damn near good enough. *** My daughter is striking. Olive skin, blue eyes, tall. Taller than I. Her lineage is indigenous Australian, but it’s a heritage that’s hard to pinpoint just by looking at her. She could be Greek,
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South Australia has been in lockdown since 18 November, apparently because someone, somewhere lied to the contract tracers. I won’t go into how casualisation of the workforce or unwieldy visa conditions may or may not have contributed to the person lying, but suffice it to say that hearing the Premier, Steven Marshall roast the person on national TV was probably not the wisest of moves. Our six day lockdown ended on the third day. Thank God. I wanted to pen a letter to the Premier of South Australia, outlining why the lockdown was unnecessary because hotel quarantine is unnecessary. And
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A while back, I posted an essay to a Facebook group of women writers that I’m in. In a nutshell, this essay is about me — while I was living in Hanoi — dating a much younger Vietnamese man for 10 months, who turned out to be a covert narcissist. He almost killed me. You would think that the comments about my essay would centre around the cycle of narcissistic abuse, or trauma bonds or intermittent reinforcement. Or how a smart, educated woman like myself could be drawn in by manipulation and lies. How I was gaslighted and controlled. Or why leaving emotionally abusive
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With the prime minster and National Cabinet introducing caps on the numbers of Australians returning home and a user pays system for mandatory hotel quarantine for returning Australians from mid July, taxpayers may be relieved that they are off the hook for this particular bill. I believe that the government’s argument of it being “fair” and “you’ve had enough time to get home” is flawed — the circumstances of expats are more nuanced and complex than they would have Australians believe, particularly if repatriating beloved pets is involved. My cat (and consequently me) is stuck in limbo in Vietnam because
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I started a PhD in 2008. A year later I quit, but that’s not what this post is about. This post is about women, work, and career advancement. It’s about what I see happening again and again in workplaces. Where women overwork in the hope they will have career success. Where women are often chewed up and spat out by the places for which they work. Where women of a certain age can’t get work. Where women have to hide their age on paper to even get a look-in for work. This post is about that, which, coincidentally, was also
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After all the doom and gloom of the last year or so, this is an “I’m happy in Hanoi again” post. It’s taken a Stupid Fucking Virus™ pandemic, lock down and a bicycle to start enjoying this city again. After a long winter, punctuated by brief bursts of warm weather, summer — with all its sweltering heat and horrible humidity and ferocious storms — has finally arrived in Hanoi. I’ve packed away put my winter coats, jackets and jumpers (actually, I’ve posted them to Australia in anticipation of my return) and hung my sleeveless shirts and floaty dresses and baggy
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I first published this letter to civil servants everywhere on 29 January, 2017. In light of recent events — Black Lives Matter and the Stupid Fucking Virus™ — it seems timely to republish it because its more relevant than ever. Dear civil servants everywhere (but especially in America), You have an important job to do. And it is more important than ever. Your job is to speak up and out about things that happen in the government organisations in which you work that you know are not right, or are criminal, or even downright psychopathic. I know that you worry
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