Borneo, Bats and Vampires

Back in April I wrote a post about an upcoming camping trip and how I really did not want to go. But you know what? I loved it. Food tastes better when you cook it on a Coleman and eat it outside. We stayed dry and cozy in our tent and slept soundly on our air mattresses and duvets. For the first time in more years than I can count, I went horseback riding with Truly. We rode out on two treks through the beautiful New Forest and I felt so brave and adventurous and filled with joy, that fresh wonder you experience when you’re young and trying something for the first time.

So I got to thinking about other adventures that I never wanted to try but, when push came to shove (sometimes literally), I tried and ended up loving. And it doesn’t have to be adventurous. It could be a new way of approaching a problem, a different genre of books, a horror film that you enjoyed even though you’ve always hated horror films. So, off the top of my head, here are a few things that I ended up enjoying despite myself:

Trekking through the Rainforest in Borneo. I planned the wedding and HRH was in charge of the honeymoon. He kept it a surprise. On our way to the airport, he spilled the beans, and it all became clear why he kept the plans under his hat. The first week was to be the adventurous portion of the holiday and we would stay in Borneo, in the Mulu National Park. The second week was the luxury part, a week in Tanjong Jara on the east coast of the Malaysian Peninsula. I thought I would try to make it through the first half and be rewarded for my pain and suffering in the second half. But you know what? I loved Borneo. We watched millions of bats come out of Deer Cave, drank Tiger beers in a little dive bar, got soaking wet in the Rainforest, and got up close and personal with the orangutans. We ate street food, fresh produce and fish stir-fried in gigantic woks, and one of the dishes included chicken feet. I even tried spelunking, climbing and clawing my way through tight crevices in a cave, and sometimes wading through chest-deep water. The whole experience was completely exhilarating. The second half of the holiday was nice too but Borneo is the part I remember most.

Tarzania. A few years ago, we took my older daughter and my niece to one of those places where you attach yourself to a harness and a zip line and swing, ape-like, from tree to tree on a thick cable. My palms were sweaty and my stomach churned as I climbed the ladder to get to the jump-off point. Those trees were tall. I tried not to look down but who has that kind of self-control. After what seemed like a short lifetime compressed in a heart-flipping few moments, I let go and slid across the cable. It was fast. My stomach jumped into my throat and I couldn’t breathe. It was amazing. I went on to do the whole circuit.

The Twilight series. I really don’t like vampires. I never got into them. For years, Truly tried to get me to read the Twilight books and I resisted. Finally, I picked one up. I couldn’t put it down. I fell in love with Edward. And the thought of becoming a vampire was almost appealing, except for the staying out of the sun bit.

Yoga. I never wanted to jump on that whole yoga craze bandwagon. It seemed boring, something more suited for a vegan or a holistic medicine man or a joss stick burning meditating type, but not for me. Not that I have anything against all that but it’s not really me. Then a friend told me she was doing Ashtanga yoga and it was amazing and a great workout. Life-changing, she may have said. She mentioned Madonna and Sting. Have you seen Sting recently? Enough said. I tried it. Loved it. Ashtanga yoga is great.

The next thing on my list to try, something that has made me balk at the prospect for years, is the summer festival. HRH has been talking up Glastonbury since the day we met. No way, I said. Not me. Well, many summers have passed and I have finally purchased tickets for a festival. We're starting out with a family festival, Camp Bestival, which I first heard about through Deer Baby. The kids are excited. HRH is excited. I am embracing my adventurous side, the part of me that would normally say no, but has detoured into yes territory. So I am excited too. In fact, I've been reading up on the festivals and there are quite a few that appeal to me (I'd love to see Vampire Weekend). We may become the Festival Family. Although, it must be said that I did say ‘no way’ when HRH said he wanted to buy a camper van. Who knows what will be next on my list? Perhaps the best is yet to come. Can anyone else think of something they thought they would hate but ended up loving?

Into the Wild: Are there any bears in the UK?

Sorry, but I have been so very busy. Panicking. And checking weatherbug.com every two seconds. Unfortunately, our dry April is showing every sign of turning into a very wet May holiday weekend. This is very bad. Sure, it may be great for the plants and flowers. Bully for them. But it’s very bad for me. Because I’m venturing into uncharted territory this weekend.

You know how, sometimes in a marriage, you forget that there are two of you in it? Two people with completely different ideas and views on life. And you know how, sometimes, you have to cross over to the other side in order to make another person happy? Well, that’s marriage, isn’t it?

Back in January, HRH was saying that we needed to break out of our rut, be more adventurous, and be open to new ideas.

‘What, in the bedroom?’ I asked nervously.

‘That’s always welcome. But what I mean is that you don’t seem to be open to new things anymore.’

Uh-oh. I felt an argument coming on and I crossed my arms defensively. ‘How do you mean?’

‘We’re acting middle-aged.’

‘But isn’t that what we are?’

‘Well, we don’t have to act like it.’

The conversation continued over a bottle of red and, somehow, I agreed to listen to an idea and love it instead of dismissing it immediately.

‘Let’s go camping,’ HRH said.

Er. Huh. Um. I pictured the miserable, damp camping trips of my youth. Even as a kid, camping was something I never embraced and HRH knew that. Over the years, he has been on an evangelical mission to convert me. Albeit, rather covertly, lurking quietly on the sidelines and biding his time.

‘See, I knew you’d say no,’ he said.

‘I haven’t said a word.’

‘But you will. I can tell by that look on your face.’

‘Let’s go camping!’ Without thinking, I blurted it out. That’s the problem with me.

You know how sometimes your spouse says one thing and you hear something different? Ahem. In an effort to wrap my head around the whole camping thing, I did some research. I read about a London family who stayed in a Moroccan-themed yurt. It was spacious, luxurious, and totally cool. I could picture us there. And then I read about glamping. That would be a fantastic compromise, a way to ease into the whole camping concept. We could stay in one of those little huts all kitted out with Cabbages & Roses decor. And we could pick up a Daylesford Organic hamper.

But the buzz stopped there. HRH booked the campsite. In the New Forest. He unfurled his musty old sleeping bag. ‘This baby travelled with me when I cycled to India.’ Yeah, I think there’s still a bit of Kazakhstan mold clinging to the inside. He pulled out a leaky old tent and some tin bowls and cups, something the inmates might bang on the tables to signal an uprising. My imaginary glamping trip was tarnished by visions of refugee camps. But HRH was not to be thwarted. He did what I would have done and I grudgingly admire him for it. He blew the dust off the plastic and went shopping.

The camping gear arrived and filled up our hallway and Reception room. HRH bought so much that he had to get a Thule box for the roof of the car. And a bike rack. On Saturday morning, at the crack of dawn, the four of us will be heading to the New Forest with a 6-man tent complete with wall to wall carpeting and a walk-in closet, a kitchen, four bikes, one dog, food, clothes and wellies and the Royal Hound. In a Prius.

My god, what was I thinking? It's possible that I'm making myself sound kind of high-maintenance here, a regular princess. And I'm really not. It's just that I'm more of a city girl. I don't need 5-star hotels in exotic beach locales with Frette sheets on the bed and room service for breakfast (actually, that all sounds pretty nice). I think what puts me off about camping is the whole shower and toilet thing. And bugs. And mud. But HRH, Truly and Scrumptious are excited. And one of the rules of agreeing to something new is to enter into it with a joyous spirit and have a positive attitude. I will not moan (too much) or cast dispersions or in any way dampen the enthusiasm of my family. I’ll zip my lip. Wish me luck! I’m sure it will be great. And I'll probably end up loving it. See? Positive attitude.