John and I are discussing our future and where we might end up living in said future (in 4 or 5 years’ time people don’t panic we’re not quitting Ubud yet.) We’ve agreed the next stop we call home must be hippy, progressive (though the only place filled with more crazies than Ubud must be the Pleidian mother ship itself), multi-cultural, near water, hot but not humid…and John is saying something now about conscious living and I hear the words but at the same time I’m zoning out because over his shoulder, just blurring at the corner of my vision, is the dessert menu.
Apple panna cotta or Cherry pie? I think to myself whilst nodding with my serious face at John.
We are sitting on a wooden deck overlooking a lovely lake. It’s idyllic – the sky is blue and cloudless, the grass is verdant, the wine glasses are full of bubbles and pink happiness, the plates of manchego and marron (look it up) have been cleared away, the food baby is gestating. We’ve spent two hours eating and talking about life and our plans for 2012 and expressing gratitude in a very Ubud Deepak Chopra way for all the experiences of the last two years (can you believe it’s been two years?). Of course, you’ve probably guessed by now we’re not in Bali – wine…cherry pie…manchego…ain’t happening in Indonesia. We’re in Australia of course.
Remember we came here last year? To Perth? A great place to retire or wait out the apocolypse I think I remarked back then (certainly the outback seems like a remote enough place to sit and chill whilst the zombies rampage unless the kangaroos get infected too – goddamn I read too much YA fiction). My opinion remains. I love it. It’s beautiful and the weather is heavenly and there are supermarkets selling cherries and wine and goats cheese and oatiflakes and there is so much SPACE that even the sky seems ginormously enormous. I like it here I do, but I couldn’t live here. Despite the oatiflakes and the WINE and the cleanliness and the amount of six-package on the beaches and the WINE and the amazing bloggers who love my books and the awesome sunshine and the WINE.
For a start we couldn’t actually afford it. Are the Australians the only people on earth right now with actual money? They certainly don’t seem to be recession hit. I on the other hand am having my own financial melt down given the cost of just about everything on this continent. Books are about twenty quid a pop. I mean – seriously? How is that possible? On the other hand am hoping I see a royalty cheque from Oz soon – I mean that’s got to be good given a 7% royalty here is probably the equivalent of 100% royalty elsewhere.
Alas though Australia, despite your luscious desserts and empty deserts, we are just not meant to be. Unless the zombieapocolypse starts soon.