Today at 50

I woke up early on May 25. I climbed out of bed and moved to the outside balcony so I could contemplate my life. I honestly expected a lightening bolt to strike me with sudden wisdom and I didn’t want my roommate, Frances, to become collateral damage.

While I sat outside in the early dawn I thought – this is it. I am now 50 years old. I am in an amazing hotel in the middle of Ubud, Bali in Indonesia. I am exactly where I wanted to be when I started planning this trip some 18 months ago.

Part of my journey was to discover myself at 50. My plan was to travel around; me, my journal and my camera. In the end I found that in reality it was just me. The other things were accessories and not absolutely needed for the trip.

I am currently sitting on the flight from LAX to Miami, en route home. I wanted to return with the wisdom of Yoda, the lyrics of Khalil Gibran and the story telling ability of Maya Angelou (who passed away while I was travelling). Instead, I have been imbued with the knowledge that I am still who I am, no matter what part of the world I happen to be in.

I am truly grateful for the fact that I have been able to take advantage of the opportunities that came my way. I have also learned that regardless of where I am, I still have to be able to face myself, look at myself in the mirror and meet my eyes and like the person I am, the person I am becoming and forgive myself for any perceived missteps or short comings.

Part of my goal for this trip was to be open to whatever happened, whatever came up.

One of the more random things I did was travel to a place called Yogyakarta with Frances. Before the trip, I had never heard of the place and we were going to be there for less than 24 hours. But what the heck -

Later in Melaka, I randomly stopped to taste the wares of a street vendor. I sat at the only table with an empty seat. There was a lady beside me and we started talking. She was from Singapore and told me about the research she was conducting for her Masters thesis. She asked me if I have been to the museum. I hadn’t, so decided to accompany her to the museum.

Initially I didn’t want to take the guided tour but in the end I took it. I’m happy I did. I learned a great deal about the Baban and Nyongo (need to check the spelling) – these are the descendants of Chinese men who came to Malayasia and married Malay women.

I am eternally grateful to the women who joined me in Bali to kick start the celebrations. Frances traveled from Bermuda, Sharon from Singapore, Mariam and Fatima came from Bahrain. There is something special about women gathering. We all come from different backgrounds and perspectives. We came with open hearts and a willingness to be together and experience Ubud.

All I can say, is I had a fabulous time. I learned from them. I laughed with them. I appreciated them. They each helped to define this journey.

So what did I learn? Everything and nothing. Everything I need to know is already inside of I and I don’t have to travel to the other side of the world to discover it. I can sit on the front porch of my house and know all I need to know about myself. However sometimes you have to make the journey in order to absorb the knowledge and rest assured that you really aren’t missing anything.

As I reflect on the last three weeks I am left with a profound sense of gratitude. I am still teary – I have been assured the tears are a process of going through menopause. I have also been told that I am still at the start of the process. I’m not deeply into it yet. Yay! I have that to look forward to!

My closing thoughts? 50! Wow! What a feeling! 

Along the way ... the journey at 50

 So I went to Indonesia, Malaysia and Singapore. So much happened, I don’t know where to start. I had many wonderful experiences.

When Frances Marshall and I landed in Bali, it was scorching hot and humid. At the end of our time together, Frances reminded me that my first comment was, “Great, I brought the right clothes.” You have to admit, there is nothing worse than being on vacation and not having the right clothes for the temperature.

Frances and I were roommates during our time together (Bali, Jakarta and Yogyakarta). We had a huge bathtub in the bathroom at our hotel at Junjungan, Bali. When I say huge, it was the size of a small room. It was so large you had to step into it to reach the taps – a minor design flaw, the taps should have been on the nearside of the tub. Needless to say, I enjoyed many baths in that tub. I think I will miss it.

One word about jetlag - it sucks – okay two words.

En route to Bali we flew over, or maybe through, the International Date Line. That was incredible, well it would have been if I had known exactly when it happened. I was probably asleep during that momentous occasion. Obviously I’ll have to do it again in order to make sure I’m wide awake to experience it.

The exchange rate in Bali is something like 10 ringetts or 11 ringetts to a US$. While out shopping we found a store that was selling a dress for 1,000,000 ringetts. I looked at the price tag. The dress was beautiful. My friends assured it me was only US$100. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that it was a 1,000,000 and I couldn't see myself paying 1million anything for a dress. It stayed on the hanger.

I learned that not all airports are created equal. The airport in Yogyakarta was quite casual. You get off the plane and walk to the terminal. Nothing unusual there, except we had to dodge rolling planes and speeding airport vehicles. I learned that culture might dictate how you get off the plane. I expected the rows to empty into the aisle in an orderly fashion, where you wait until the folks in the row in front of you move off before taking your turn. This isn’t always the process. You don’t stop or wait, otherwise you will never get off the plane. As soon as the plane holts, you make a mad grab for your carry on and then you get off the plane as quickly as possible, the best way possible.

In Jakarta I found out that I'm no photojournalist. The morning of our only full day in the city, we caught a cab from the hotel to the mall. After a few hours I had fulfilled my mall roaming quota for the city and decided to venture out and take pictures of the environs. We did notice a large number of police officers on the streets en route to the mall. I didn’t give it a lot of thought, I didn’t know if this was a usual occurrence or if something was happening that day. While wandering around I found out there was a demonstration taking place in the city.

As I walked around I noticed about two blocks away there were police in front of a huge mob. I took a few pictures until a security guard from a nearby building came over and said to be careful, it could be dangerous.

I had to make a snap decision. Was I going to take my photography to the next level or run scared and return to the cool safety of the mall? Needless to say within a few minutes, I found myself inside of H&M contemplating the red shirt or the blue?

One comment about the cab drivers in Jakarta – none of them knew where our hotel was located. The driver of the cab we took from the airport spent an hour driving around in circles looking for the Morrissey. He would occasionally get out to ask for directions. It took us longer to find the hotel than it did to fly from Bali to Jakarta.

By the end of the ride, we all got out of the cab with the view of making sure we all got directions, despite the fact that we didn’t know the language or where in the world we were. Needless to say, we were extremely happy to finally get to the hotel. An experience, I’m sure, none of us will forget.

Have you ever been through the airport in Kuala Lumpur? OMG! It is brand spanking new and very sexy, if airports can be sexy. Once I cleared immigration and was walking towards ground transportation I felt as though I was in a James Bond or Jason Bourne movie. I lie to you not, I started thinking like a spy. I gave myself the name James Bourne or was it Jason Bond. I looked around for my contact and sports car while planning how I was going to nab my prey. I was cracking myself up at my overactive imagination and would have laughed out loud as I walked through the airport if I thought it wouldn’t get me arrested and put on international stop lists. How do you rationally explain to an airport official that you were laughing because you aren’t really an international spy!

The whole spy thing stayed with much for much of my time in Kuala Lumpur. Whenever I was out alone, I scoped out hiding places of my imaginary nemeses and determined how I was blending in with the local folks. Keeping in mind most of the people are Malay, Chinese or Indian. Since I am none of these ethnic groups I didn’t blend in well. Perhaps I should ask M for a West African country assignment.

Lost taxi drivers, spying in Malaysia and Bali belly (yes, my stomach did not act right the entire time I was in Bali) aside, I could never have anticipated the adventures, camaraderie and fun that highlighted my birthday celebrations. I encourage everyone to turn 50 at least once in their life!

Sports Related Injury

As you may know by now, I will be 50 years old on May 25. In my attempt to be 50 and fine as fux, I have revisited my exercise regime. This renewed interest in my muscles began a few months ago when I was challenged by my childhood friend, Janice, to join her job’s weight incentive program. It seemed like a no brainer, eat right, drink lots of water, exercise and get weighed every week.

Janice and I had a side competition between us. Given my do or die attitude towards all things competitive, I was right there. I even went out and purchased a trophy that was claimed by the week’s weight loss winner.

The realization that my strategy of eating everything with no exercise wasn’t helping my weight loss campaign, I decided to step up my game. I figured actually getting sweaty through prolonged vigorous activity would help my cause.

Early morning exercising doesn’t work for me. I have to have coffee to start my day, check on clients and get work out the door. I started walking in the evenings, leaving my house and following my usual routes. Given that I have done this on and off over the years (I’ve lived in my house for 20 years) I know every possible street within a five mile radius of my house. I thought I would try something new. Each afternoon I would drive into the city and drop the car off for Mark and then walk home.

After the first couple of days I realized a direct route was too short. I started finding circuitous ways home. This worked! I usually arrived home just after Mark so I knew I was onto something.

On this particular day, everything was going well. I had found a new route, some steps to run up and down (had to increase my heart rate) and was making good time. I was seven minutes from home, enjoying the feel of my muscles, listening to some slamming tunes and soaking in the fresh air. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a car had slowed down and it was Mark. I couldn’t hear his comments but he was smiling at me. In turn, I waved widely and wildly as he drove by. Next thing I knew I was sliding across the side walk.

What. Just. Happened? How was I laid flat out on my stomach in the middle of the street? I lay there for a few moments, stunned. I took stock of my position. I began searching around frantically for my glasses. I couldn’t find them. I had to make sure I didn’t tread on them as I stood. All this while traffic whizzed by. One lady stopped to ask if I was okay. Gathering my dignity, I replied in the affirmative. As I looked across the street at her, I realized I could see her clearly. I put my hand to my face and found my glasses. With my glasses no longer in danger, I gingerly rose to my feet.

As I took stock of my injuries, I found a huge gash on my left hand where it had glided gracelessly over the surface of the pavement. I considered looking around for the lost skin but thought better of it and started the injured woman’s hobble home.

I walked in the kitchen door calling for Mark to provide me with medical attention. He came down to see what all the fuss was about. Sure enough he ran off to gather the antibiotic and band aids. I have no idea where these items came from, I didn’t even know we owned such things.

Wounds and pride bandaged, I went to lie down to recover from the trauma of my unexpected trip. Over the following few days I was asked repeatedly about the damage to my hand. Not wanting to provide embarrassing details of my publicly humiliating fall, I would look the person in the eye and answer with a shrug, “it’s a sports related injury.” End of discussion.

Pausing

This long overdue entry is not for the faint-hearted, women, children or men. It is however for those who, like me, didn’t have a clue that menopause starts when women are in their 40s.

This essay will explore and explode the myths around women ‘of a certain age’ and the physiological changes they go through.

The myth

For many women menopause apparently starts when they are in their 40s. For me it started when I was 48 but I didn’t have a name for it until I was 49. I thought I would get unusually hot because I was drinking coffee, walking down the street, sleeping too much (and by too much, I mean three hours) or standing still too long. 

My best friend Jackie alerted me to the fact that I may be in menopause. She asked me a few insightful questions and like a ton of bricks it quickly became apparent, I was in the throes of menopause.

Following a number of discussions with women who are also ‘of a certain age’ I came to understand that I am indeed old enough to experience the joys of menopause.

Bloody bleeding

One of the things I didn’t know was that you get periods for days and days and days and days on end. It is times like this that only well placed expletives are absolutely appropriate. Who the fuck has a period that lasts for two fucking weeks? Where is the sanity in that? WHAT THE FUCK?!

Taking a deep cleansing breath, I am refocusing on the task at hand. Yes, ladies, your periods become erratic and you have no idea when it will start or how long it will last. Feels like I’m 12 years old all over again.

I remember asking a doctor how I could get rid of my periods. She said, it’s called a hysterectomy.  My immediate response was, okay thanks. Don’t need that.

Who needs sleep?

Another wonderful side effect of menopause is the lack of sleep. Who needs sleep anyway? I find myself waking at odd times of the night wondering what just happened and why am I wide awake? Since I am unable to fall asleep I spend my time wisely, reading mindless erotica and trolling Facebook to see who else is awake.

Hot flashing

One minute you are normal and the next you want to get naked. There is no in between mode. The most frightening hot flash experience I had was on a flight from Johannesburg to London. I usually dress warm and comfortably for long flights. About three hours into the flight, after the meals had been served and the lights dimmed, I settled in to read my book while listening to music. Suddenly the plane caught on fire. I jumped up from my seat – or at least attempted to but was restrained by my seat belt. I turned to see where the flames were leaping from since my back was experiencing intense heat. There were no flames. I looked at my neighbor to see if she was experiencing this unusual heat wave. Nothing. I looked around. It seemed as though everyone else was either sleeping or riveted by the movie before them.

I came to the sad conclusion that it was only me going through the agonizing, excruciating heat. I couldn’t disrobe because I only had on a sweater. I have since learned to dress in layers. Layers are my friend.

Exploding brain cells

I also experienced, which I will lay at the feet of menopause, not being able to think. I had to provide a client with a complex project plan that had lots of moving parts. I was in the process of finalizing the document when it dawned on me that I had spent three hours on one section and could not figure out how to make it all work. I was running out of time. I had a meeting to present the final plan to a larger group. I had to bring my game face. Luckily I had told my client of my issues and the fact that I COULD NOT THINK today. She very smoothly stepped in to provide assistance.

It was scary not being able to access that one important brain cell when I needed it.

Envy

I will start to wrap up this soliloquy with my salute to women who no longer have periods. For the last eight months or so, I have been speaking to women about my menopause issues. I have been greeted with open arms and welcomed into the fold. I have heard many stories about how others have handled all of the above issues. Many have gleefully told me, they no longer have periods and they are living in bliss (until it comes back unexpectedly after a year or so).

The surprise

My greatest surprise in all of this is my husband. I sat with him one day and told him I was starting to experience menopause. He took it all in stride and asked me a number of probing questions and offered his support. I thought that was the end of it, until he came home one day with a list of remedies. I asked how he got it. He said he was talking with one of the ladies at work … hold the presses. He was having conversations about this outside of our home? Who knew?! Anyway, he seems very comfortable addressing this topic. He often asks, how is the menopause?

I live in hope that this exciting stage of my life will yield many lessons and add to my increasing wisdom bank. As I said, well placed expletives help. FUCK!