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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781780996905 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Collective Ink |
| Publication date: | 05/16/2013 |
| Edition description: | Reprint |
| Pages: | 280 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.40(w) x 8.40(h) x 0.40(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Go! Smell the Flowers
One Journey, Many Discoveries
By Jim Wheat, Emma Wheat
John Hunt Publishing Ltd.
Copyright © 2012 Jim and Emma WheatAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-78099-690-5
Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
All that glitters
Emma
This is the life, or is it?
'All that is gold does not glitter; not all those that wander are lost,'
JRR Tolkein
"More Champagne Madam?"
This was the life. This is why I had come to Dubai. Glittering parties, sparkling dresses, handsome men in their dinner jackets, uniformed waiters wearing spotless white gloves delivering an endless supply of champagne in sparkling crystal. Hmm ...
I don't think so.
I had just spent five months in my second job since leaving the British Embassy, this time as director of sales and marketing for the Dubai office of a UK-based company. My role was to set up and launch a branch of the company that marketed a range of luxury goods, including cars and jewellery. This meant that I had to meet and mingle with many of the 'top' people in Dubai; the chief executives, the Sheikhs, dignitaries and decision makers.
The party invitations flowed as freely as the champagne. Finally I was beginning to sample the other side of life in Dubai. There were parties at Dubai's seven star hotel, The Burj Al Arab; launches of new companies and brands, with British royalty and a handful of local celebrities present too. There were luxury cars as giveaways and guests wearing bespoke jewellery to die for. It was a far cry from the life of a teacher that I had experienced when I arrived.
It was fantastic to start with, don't get me wrong, but after a while, the shiny veneer became increasingly tarnished. When I looked closely at what lay beneath, it could be shallow, boring and in some cases, plain unpleasant. In fact, after ten years it had become more and more difficult to hide my complete disinterest in the high life after all - and the people living it.
All the same, I was enjoying a lifestyle that I would not be able to afford in the UK; manicures, pedicures, waxing, hair appointments, coffee and my ironing done for me - all had become part of my normal everyday life and I felt that I was changing into a person that I didn't recognise. I was torn. Was I the same person that had once dreamt of owning dogs, horses and an open log fire to sit by? Was this new life the life I really wanted?
Jim
Reality check
'Ours is a world where people don't know what they want and they are willing to go through hell to get it.' Don marquis
"Nice one, Jim," said Paul as my ball rolled with a gentle plop into the eighteenth hole. "Not enough to win the game, the Guinness is on you back at the Club House."
"Whatever you say, Boss." I replied shaking his hand through gritted teeth. I hated losing at golf and never let the boss win if I could help it.
We were on the smooth green turf of the Nad Al Sheba golf course and I had been in Dubai for almost three years.
This was no ordinary golf course; not only did it offer floodlit golf until midnight it also played host to the world's richest horserace - the Dubai World Cup. Big occasions like these teased me with buffets that confirmed the world really was my oyster, lobster and king-sized prawn. Shared hangovers and topping up the next day was the currency of expatriates and one I was happy to trade with. And yet for some reason, here I was, using the club as my solace for feeling lonely and empty.
My life in Dubai just wasn't sitting right. Whenever I pressed the pause button and allowed myself a scrap of quiet time it felt uncomfortable. I experienced immense feelings of isolation, guilt and greed like never before. My day-to-day life saw me sitting behind a lap top, locked up in a head office all day. Was this justification for my so-called 'higher' education? Not only had the marketing spend and sales results increased during my tenure but so had my waistline and blood pressure. I'd shot up from 90 to almost 100 kilos and my waist had gone from 34 to 38 inches. I had suddenly become known as 'Big Jim', but for all the wrong reasons.
I was fed up of using the last notch on my belt and despite the hairdryer of heat that hit me every time I got out of the 4x4 after work, returning to my flat to change before jumping into my roof-top pool still made it hard to feel refreshed. The combination of sauna, cold shower and pool even stopped doing the trick as I failed to settle after work and relax to enjoy my privileged surroundings, maintained so carefully by the faceless Indian workers that I had begun to call by name.
"Good morning Meester Jim," they would beam as I flopped into my pool before or after a hard day of emailing.
Sometimes I'd manage a grunt, and to go as far as looking them in the eye. As we began to exchange smiles, it got me thinking. Where did these guys come from, when did they have holidays? What did they eat? What did they earn? Their meagre reality provided me with some form of a benchmark whilst I was busy pitying my privileged existence. How did they feel being barely paid, largely ignored and probably taken for granted? What about the guy who filled my jeep with petrol? The pool cleaner? The countless subservient security guards who referred to me as 'Sir'? What had I done to deserve this accolade from a stranger?
These were the much ignored foot soldiers of Dubai who made the place work as they crouched down in their overalls in the midday sun or greeted everyone with a smile inside the air-conditioned restaurants. Thanks to all the so called self-help books I read by gurus like Phil McGraw, Tom Peters and Deepak Chopra I now realise that all that was happening was a bout of introspection. They call it 'self-discovery' but at the time it felt like downright misery. I was sick and tired of returning 'home' to my bachelor flat after another hard day of typing and shouting a sarcastic 'Hi, honey I'm home,' or a 'Home honey, I'm high,' out to the imaginary life partner who was waiting for me at the dining room table with a hug, a glass of red wine and a homemade lasagne.
GO! Read
The money or your life, John Clarke
Siddartha, Herman Hesse
Reimagine, Tom Peters
Occasionally, I'd return to the flat, polish off a bottle of wine and put my sorry self to bed. I stopped watching over-rated TV programmes opting instead to read more. I replayed films like Gladiator, empathising with Maximus as he is ordered to unveil himself. Had this been me in the twenty-first century, caught in my moment of glory, the scene might have gone something like this:
"My name is James William Wheat, commander of the Marketing Department, general of construction chemicals, loyal servant to the true emperor, my computer keyboard."
GO! Think:
Learn to enjoy your own company. If you cannot stand spending time with yourself, how can you expect anyone else to want to be around you?
When did you last allow yourself some quiet time?
So there I was, with everything that I thought I'd wanted and yet was still deeply unhappy. I had my health and material possessions. I was able to throw myself at the wondrous Dubai lifestyle while managing to stash some tax-free cash away from time to time. Mum always called this my Rainy Day Fund and maybe I was missing the rain after all. This spare cash only added to my feelings of selfishness, guilt, greed and isolation. Welcome to 'success'. What was my problem?
"Can you call a lady called Emma from this exhibition company, Jim?' Paul asked me one day in March. "I expect she'll be after some form of sponsorship."
"Yeah, yeah. Bring it on. You don't expect me to fall for that old ploy do you? They send in the blonde and I sign on the dotted line!"
I called her. She came into the office, bringing with her an air of such grace and femininity that it was as if the room were suddenly filled with flowers. Sitting on the opposite side of my huge desk, Emma began to describe the event she was planning for the upper echelons of the construction industry.
Emma, whom I discovered came from Devon, needed sponsorship. She was gorgeous. I signed.
Emma
'We all have big changes in our lives that are more or less a second chance'
Harrison Ford
Jim and I had a soft launch to our relationship.
We played some golf, he showed off his cooking skills and we took a trip out into the desert, all of which were male domains and designed to impress – and I was impressed. But I was then faced with having to do something in return – something that would have an impact on a man of such sporting prowess as Jim.
My opportunity arrived by chance about a week later, when I had some spare tickets to a work-related event: beach polo. It was glitzy and glamorous yet sporty, with a few stars thrown in for good measure and a boozy corporate lunch by the sea. It was a rather stark contrast to the testosterone-riddled rugby pitches and the ensuing pints of beer Jim was used to. My event had the requisite manly deeds and alcohol, but its handling was more refined. I even convinced myself he was just a potential client too. I was in heaven that day. Sunshine, glamour, horses and a handsome man whose full attention, somehow, I commanded all afternoon.
I found myself spending most of the afternoon gazing in Jim's direction. Once I realised that my attention was taken away from the horses and the men in white jodhpurs (which are two of my passions in life) I realised that Jim was not one to let go of in a hurry. If anything could drag my attention away from thighs and thoroughbreds, it had to be important. This realisation was enough to make me start looking at things a little differently.
GO! Think:
When something can't help but command your focus, it may be time to pay attention.
What commands your focus?
Thankfully, my attempts at trying to impress Jim had worked and that evening he called me to set an 'official' date for Valentine's Day. What better day to go public with our relationship?
Jim
One Gin & Tonic before Emma arrived wouldn't hurt, helped down with a handful of cashew nuts. It's the first date and she was bound to be a few minutes late. It would give me some company while I waited at the bar.
Emma
To add more romance to the evening, we had agreed to meet in the bar like semi strangers before going up to the restaurant. In my mind I had been playing the scene like an old black and white movie, with me as Audrey Hepburn standing in the doorway ... romantic music playing ... she is looking around uncertainly for the man of her dreams. Their eyes lock ... she walks through a crowded bar ... all the men in the bar stop to follow her across the room until she locks into a passionate embrace with her man ... climax of music and cut.
In reality, the traffic was gridlocked and my phone was out of battery. The question was would he wait for me?
Jim
Having stared aimlessly into my second Tanquerey and tonic I began to wonder if she was going to show. Half an hour late was beyond first date late. Bloody Valentine's day. Nice cashew nuts.
Emma
Forty minutes later, (which I am not sure counts as 'fashionably' late) I was overjoyed to see Jim sitting patiently in a seat by the bar, looking gorgeous in a red shirt. I was so relieved that he had not given up and left, that the dignified film star entrance was forgotten as I rather unceremoniously flung myself into his arms bemoaning the traffic.
Jim
It was definitely worth the wait.
I had waited my whole life to experience the evening that we shared.
Emma
It was a wonderful evening on which to start our relationship. Now that we had admitted to ourselves and anyone who was interested - and many who weren't - that we were officially a couple, our relationship started to develop very quickly and we soon became constant companions.
Jim accompanied me devotedly to my work functions, each one became bigger and better than the last. The extravagance of it all made my head spin and my stomach churn. With Jim at my side, it was as if we began to share the same pair of eyes and together, as the rose-tinted lenses fell away, we both began to see the shallowness of Dubai society.
Jim
Clarity with Charity
'Charity: A thing that begins away from home, and usually stays there.'
- Elbert Hubbard
Emma and I found it perfectly natural to share our thoughts, experiences and dreams as we compared corporate notes that were in essence very similar. I talked about how 'one day' I would resign to travel and write a book. This gave us a sense of perspective, it made our toils more worthwhile and whilst I was fantasising, Emma was dreaming of re-visiting South Africa and the South of France having spent memorable holidays where she had adored the simplicity and general way of life.
Another effective way I found that helped me to keep a sense of perspective was my obsession with physically pushing myself. The only exercise I took at work was walking up the stairs to my office, the odd pit stop for liquids in and out, and back down the stairs to leave again. It was hardly climbing Mount Everest although I did feel like I was hanging onto the corporate mountainside waiting for my pay cheque to land at the end of every month. I set myself sponsored challenges to do in my spare time to raise money for various local charities whilst keeping fit and keeping my feelings of guilt for my own ill-gotten wealth at bay. I'd already started planning more travel for that year and was pencilled in to do a charity trek with my friends at the Dubai-based charity, Gulf 4 Good, to discover the Machu Picchu site in Peru.
Thanks to the various charity challenges I had already cycled from Bangkok to Cambodia, climbed Mount Kilimanjaro and seen the wonders of the Serengeti. I know for a fact that the participants got as much out of it as the recipients of our donations. The more Gulf 4 Good trips I completed, the more I questioned why I was spending so much of my time in the office like a caged lion. Field sales had been my Serengeti and I was missing the real world Savannah.
These travel outlets were a brilliant way to get me out of the Dubai bubble. They kept me occupied and allowed me to spend less time in my empty, lonely, soulless flat. It may have been a trendy apartment for wannabes, with all mod-cons, minimalist furniture and a designer loo-roll holder, but before Emma I did not even have the luxury of a mouse or cockroach for company. So much for the 'high life'.
The final nail in the 'woe is me' coffin came when I flew to Sri Lanka in March 2005 to fly the corporate flag during some Tsunami relief work with the Japanese arm of the charity, Save the Children. I'd overheard in the office that my colleague, Graham, was due to visit the area on behalf of our Japanese operation to ensure that the $300,000 raised by the company through various fundraising initiatives was being put to proper use. I managed to convince the company to allow me to go with him to document our unsung work there after the devastation that had hit the island three months earlier.
GO! Think
Have you ever considered charity work? What local charity would you donate your time to? Do you think the charity really benefits or does it get swallowed up in administration?
I met Graham in the Hilton in Colombo, and we wasted no time in driving 100 miles along the south-east coast to the floodplains of Matara that were to benefit from some of the money. As we passed along the once idyllic coastline looking out at the seemingly calm ocean, we witnessed the scenes of destruction with open-mouthed disbelief. Whole communities, not just houses, had been pulled up from the roots of their foundations leaving nothing but destruction. The picture of the mangled wreckage of an eight-carriage commuter train will be with me forever.
Full of life until the wave struck and now skewed over the battered track it was hard to get my head around the enormity of what had happened; Imagine travelling on a train, reading one minute, only to be wiped clean out the next. The community had decided to leave the wreckage as it was, to honour the thousand people who had been annihilated as the tsunami stopped the train in its tracks. All that remained were bouquets of flowers, scribbled notes and the beginnings of rust.
What I had seen got me to thinking: I was full of life now, but for how long? When was my tidal wave going to hit?
Coming face to face with the locals, we met some very humble people who had lost not only all of their possessions but their family members too in - one fell swoop. They needed a leg-up to rebuild their lives. Our company had donated 25 concrete-block making machines together with 500 sewing machines, which left us with no doubt that our donation would at least make a small difference. We hoped to give these people the chance of earning a living again.
GO! Think
Why wait for the tidal wave to land? What changes can you make now in your life?
Back to my reality
'My problem lies in reconciling my gross habits with my net income.'
-Errol Flynn
On the business class flight home later that day I felt acutely uneasy. It just didn't seem right that the cost of my flight alone could have watered, fed and clothed a dozen of the families I had just seen for many months. Despite my feelings I soon succumbed once again to the lure of my privileged lifestyle and rather than stay and do something about the devastation I had seen, I boarded the plane.
That evening contrasted starkly with what I'd just witnessed as I accompanied Emma to a glitzy ball at one of Dubai's over the top 5 star hotels. In a matter of hours I had ricocheted from one guilt trip to another. The 250 or so exclusive guests all sipped champagne before sitting down to be entertained with a six-course meal and a couple of accomplished waiters-cum-opera singers. My fake smile was at its best as I failed to erase the scenes in Sri Lanka from my mind. Another glass of champagne seemed to help placate me and suitably numbed the memory of what I had just left behind. This was life with all its variety and I convinced myself that I was a lucky guy to have been able to experience such contrasts in the same day.
After this experience I found myself in more turmoil than ever. Every time I found myself settling back into Dubai-life and its luxury I would shake myself firmly.
The next day I started to wonder what mark I could make on the world, thinking perhaps irrationally that were I to die, then all the people I now knew would only bother to pay their last respects because of the eat-all-you-can curry on offer at the post-burial buffet. I didn't want it to be this way. I found myself awake in the early hours of the morning writing my epitaph as they suggest in self-help books, of which I was becoming so fond.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Go! Smell the Flowers by Jim Wheat. Copyright © 2012 by Jim and Emma Wheat. Excerpted by permission of John Hunt Publishing Ltd..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
Acknowledgements viii
Foreword 1
How to use this book 3
Prologue 4
Chapter 1 All that Glitters 11
Chapter 2 Wine and Braai 39
Chapter 3 Flowers and Family 78
Chapter 4 Cafes and Coffees 96
Chapter 5 From Shampoo to Shaman 121
Chapter 6 Peruvian Proposal 150
Chapter 7 Fires and Festivities 188
Chapter 8 Thai-ing the Knot 215
Epilogue part I 243
Jim's Epilogue Part II 252
Emma's Epilogue Part II 262