KEEP IT IN THE PHAMLY

I learned some things about why I keep failing at men, while I was using Tinder across Europe. Aussie men are afraid of women. They treat us like a foreign species instead of a different gender. The European men I chatted to were much more relaxed, confident and straightforward in their flirting. I didn't get offended and delete a single one for being disrespectful or inappropriate. Plus, I never once got a 'How's your day?' which is Brisbane men's default question… every day for 4-5 days before I delete him because he either doesn’t know how to speak to women, or was texting so many people he couldn't keep the conversation going and/or was too lazy to scroll up to see what we'd already said.

The men I matched with in Europe asked me about me, and shared things about them - none of this trying to be overly clever, using pick-up-lines, or not knowing what to say. It was refreshing to have men chat to me like a fellow human being with a personality and brain. Crazy, I know.

I found French and German men the most attractive in very different ways. The French were exotically dark, handsome and confident. The Germans were striking with bold, pale features. Italian men I found a bit pushy - half a dozen sidestepped Tinder matching to DM me on Instagram even though I'd expressed no interest - I ignored them all, respect my space please. The Spaniards were sensual, friendly and most chilled out. By the time we got to our last stop in Prague I was out of data and the apartment wifi wasn't working so I didn't get any Czech matches - though, if it's like their customer service the matches could be aggressive, cold and intimidating. I could be wrong though.

I did have one Tinder win story in Berlin. My first Tinder win in 5 years. All I had to do was go to the other side of the world. Maybe I'll tell you about him some time. But yes, Aussie women traveling Europe - I highly recommend using Tinder over there even if you’re burnt out from Aussie Tinder here!

Back in Germany in the '80s, every Saturday or Sunday The Phamly would walk a half hour to Aunty 9’s house. Well, it's a 20 minute walk as an adult for us when we went back to Germany for the first time in 29 years, but Dad & Mum Pham had to haul 3 young kids with them. Aside from the cousin who lived with us, we were probably closest to Aunty 9's kids.

We reunited with our cousins in Frankfurt on our Europe 2017 trip. Genetics is a funny thing - I recognised my cousin rounding a corner at the train station immediately because he looks EXACTLY like his mum. And he spotted me immediately because I look EXACTLY like Mum Pham (his Mum's sister).

It's been 29 years since we've seen each other. I was a pudgy 4 year old and Little Sissy Pham a scrawny 3 year old when we left Germany. In my memories, our cousins were so big and tall, and now I dwarf them. In fact, we dwarfed all of our German Phamly. Mum Pham used to say we grew enormous because we had cows' milk and potatoes as kids since we were born in Germany, then raised in Australia. Our cousins were born in Vietnam, and immigrated or migrated over.

Our Frankfurt-based cousins, Chi N (10 years older though looks 10 years younger than us now) and Anh T (3 years older), are in heaps of Phamly photos because we used to do all the fun things together. Parades and games and birthday and playground photos.

If we had stayed in Germany, I know I'd be really close to Chi N who's a graphic designer, artist, singer, and super-funny and sassy to boot. My kind of human and humour. Big Brother Pham and Anh T would have been the best of friends too. Anh T was his mum's shadow as a kid but when we went to their house, he and Big Brother Pham would go off playing adventure games together. He studied IT and is a software developer for Germany's Federal Intelligence Service. Big Brother Pham studied IT too but didn't finish his course due to some unfortunate turns of events in his life. Makes me wonder how differently all our lives would have turned out if we'd stayed in Germany. But we didn't, so no use dreaming of our fluent German, not knowing English and maybe having a smoother ride in life than we had - though with less fresh Vietnamese food because tropical-friendly food is not so common in freezing cold Germany. Life would definitely have been different for The Phamly.

Chi N shared stories of when we were little because she was old enough to remember. This one, made me laugh because it’s so typically me and Mum, and it involves something as mundane as a toilet door:

One day at Aunty 6's house when I was 3 years old, I locked myself in the toilet and didn't know how to unlock the door because: imbecile child. After a while people noticed I was missing. Soon they discovered the toilet door was locked and couldn’t think of who else would be in there so they called through the door to ask if I was OK. I was either too petrified or too dumb to reply so didn’t make a sound. As soon as Mum Pham realised I was locked inside and not responding she did what Mum Pham does best - she went into full-blown panic mode, and freaked everyone out pacing back and forth, screeching that the worst has happened because I could have had a seizure in there (I’d had one a year before), or tripped and hit my head, or fallen in the toilet and drowned. So one of our older cousins, who shares a name with Big Brother Pham so the Phamly refer to him as Big Big Brother, and my brother as Small Big Brother (cute!) - anyhoo, Big Big Brother Cousin busted the door open and they found me just sitting in there completely fine. To this day the toilet door doesn't shut properly because of young me. What a pest.


I'm a deep level of dopey that makes strangers offer to help me carry groceries even though I'm totally capable...I'm just super awkward and uncoordinated. So when work helped launch Groove Therapy 101 in Brisbane & the Gold Coast (good job, Queen B!), I thought it'd be a great idea to go along and embarrass myself in the name of team building. And also, I like to try new things. I've been going every week since!

Groove Therapy isn't like other 'beginner' dance classes where you need at least some dance background plus the ability to follow choreography. The format for Groove Therapy is so much simpler - the dance therapist shows you a move facing the room, and you mirror them - that's it. You don't have to remember a bazillion steps, they read the room and simplify steps or add little extra grooves to suit the skill levels so everyone can follow along. Plus there are no mirrors and the lights aren't bright so you don't have to see what you look like, you just feel like a damn queen nailing all the moves (even when you aren't).

I totally sucked for the first month at Groove Therapy because my body is not used to moving in a way that resembles having rhythm, but I eventually got used to mirroring the instructor, and even add my own little grooves once I nail the basics. In Brisbane, we play little dance games and end each class with a little combo which is a few steps from today's class combined.

A post shared by GROOVE THERAPY (@groovetherapy_101) on Oct 7, 2017 at 5:59pm PDT

Wanida, the Brisbane dance therapist, is a little pocket rocket - so cheerful and energetic and encouraging, she brightens up my day and gets me pumped for the rest of the week! I notice I've been dancing along to music at work more as a result, and while I'm driving and singing car karaoke in the mornings. Seriously, dance brings so much joy - if you've ever wanted to groove along to things but don't know how and don't want to take formal dance lessons, get along to a Groove Therapy session and party in a super-chill and welcoming space! I love, love, love Groove Therapy. I start my week by partying with Groove Therapy Brisbane @ the Latvian Hall in Woolloongabba @ 6.30pm for an hour.

They hold sessions in Brisbane, Gold Coast, Byron Bay, Sydney and Melbourne. Check it out: groovetherapy101.com.

Little Sissy Pham and I finally made it back to our birth town in Germany in August this year, and it was predictably the best time EVER. Our beautiful cousins on both sides of the Pham made time for our visit and shared so many stories and memories we didn't know we had. I'm going to capture these memories in a Phamly Reunion series beginning with this post.

I am so grateful that Mum Pham and Dad Pham raised us to speak Vietnamese. It wasn’t a conscious decision they made, more like it was too difficult for them to learn English after burning through brain cells to learn German, the strangest standalone language in the history of mankind, so their English remained broken and we had to keep speaking Vietnamese as kids in order to communicate with our parents. And gosh darn, it came in handy in Germany where Vietnamese was the common language we had between three generations of Phams.

It’s bizarre hearing our cousins speak fluent German. Most of our Vietnamese relatives back home in Australia speak broken English (if that) with really heavy accents. It's probably bizarre to them that we speak Vietnamese with a foreign accent. One cousin said we were like the Vietnamese-American beauty pageant contenders on Viet programs who answer questions with funny Vietnamese because when we don't know the words to say something in a straightforward way, we find a workaround to explain what we're trying to say.

Conversation was sometimes slow as a result because my Vietnamese isn't great, and my vocab is largely centred around food because Mum Pham loved the kitchen so much. But being able to connect with extended Phamly in our parents' native tongue was so wonderful. I’ll share stories from our Phamly Reunion over the next few months. So many stories!

It took me a few weeks to get back into the swing of things. I had writer’s block… well, I had ideas but I didn’t want to sit down with a MacBook for the longest time because I’d gotten used to not hanging out with computers on account of I didn't take one to Europe. But now I am back in Australia and back on my laptop and back to reality.

Our welcome back wasn’t so nice. First, I come back to a plebiscite about a human rights issue that’s only an ‘issue’ because our politicians are cowards who won’t stand up for what’s right for all Australians. Of course, I voted yes but I’m disappointed that I had to, and I'm also irate that it's non-binding anyway. Why do we even need to do this?!

Second, a piece of trash at Brisbane International Airport mistook us for tourists and slagged us off in Boganese thinking we couldn’t understand her. Then, Dad Pham went and had himself some heart failure at our first Phamly Dinner back - thank goodness we had jet lag to make spending a night in Emergency less painful (though first day back at work that morning hurt quite a bit). I’m glad I was back in Australia in time to care for Dad but the culture (or lack thereof) shock left me with a bad case of the post-holiday blues.

Being overseas and meeting great people, then returning to that choice local twat, I realised I don’t really like Australians. The Europeans I encountered all had an inherent understanding or at least an awareness of other cultures and other languages that most Australians simply lack. I was so impressed with how nearly everyone we met could speak 2 or 3 languages. I’m only bi-lingual because of my heritage, otherwise, I’d only speak Australian like most folks here. I felt so uncultured, selfish and spoiled in Europe. I only learned enough to say hello, bye and thank you in the countries we visited - and expected (and did) find English speakers whenever I needed to communicate something important.

Australians tend to live in ignorance because of our isolated island. Sure, there’s racism everywhere in the world - not just Australia, but in Europe every country is bordered by many others so their racists know a bit about what they hate/fear about a different race or religion - doesn't make it OK but makes it different. In Australia, the racism is an ignorant and aggressive hate/fear - backed by a strong sense of entitlement to a land that we invaded, yet don't acknowledge or pay respects to its original owners to this day and still celebrate invasion day like it's something to be proud of. At least the conversation has started around that now - but it could be years before anything is done.

I miss Europe. I miss talking with strangers who know how to ask about my cultural background and history without making me feel like an alien or super-awkward. I also like not being petted on the head like a good doggo because some Aussie chick thinks I "look so cute" - I was so shocked when that happened I didn't say anything, but damn, bitch, treat me like a human being, please. I still love Australia, and I think we’re the luckiest country in the world. I just wish we’d stop promoting ourselves as a multicultural country and start to live it instead - we'd probably enjoy or at least learn a thing or two by opening our hearts and minds to people who don't live life exactly the same way we do.

And that's how I became the third wheel on my own vacation.

Wait, let's start from the very beginning. Little Sissy Pham and I were planning a trip to Europe in 2011 for when the Eurovision Song Contest was in Germany. Unfortunately, Mum Pham fell ill and we postponed our trip but life happened. Jobs came and went, boyfriends came and went, then the more responsible one (not me) bought a mortgage and suddenly it was 2017 and we hadn't gotten around to our trip. So we decided this year had to be the year.

Little Sissy Pham has a new(ish) boyfriend and they're still doing the cutesy new sweethearts crap so instead of wanting to get away from him, she wanted to invite him. So that's how I became the third wheel on my own vacation crashing on couches while they slept in cosy beds. And yet, they were the ones who needed naps during the day (no gumption)! It worked out since I liked going out exploring on my own since Little Sissy Pham couldn't walk fast or far in her cankles.

5 weeks in Europe nearly killed the sloth couple. I was pretty tired by the end too, though I could have pressed ahead for another week of trekking around. By the last stop in Prague they'd given up on exploring and just went shopping, which is a shame because Prague city centre is one of the prettiest places I've ever seen. Every which way I looked it was beautiful.

There's so much to explore in Europe. Our trip took us from Paris to Barcelona to Marseille to Nice to Rome to Venice to Milan to Geneva to our hometown via Frankfurt to Berlin to Prague. We traveled mostly by train using a Eurail Pass, then roamed the streets of every city visiting as many sights and destinations as we could. It was exhausting and exhilarating.

Expect a string of Europe travel inspired blog posts to come!

I don’t like embarrassing people unless it’s to delight them at the same time, ‘cause otherwise that’s just mean. My latest office prank-practical present was for a team member who eats a can of tuna for lunch every day. You read that right, a single can of tuna a day every day, unless he’s super hungry and then he may have two.

Tuna Breath doesn’t like to make a fuss over his birthday though, so I didn’t know the special day had arrived until I rocked up to work. I sent him a smart ass birthday email - this year I told him he’s by far my favourite person over the age of 100, and wished him a wonderful day. But somehow, this didn’t feel like enough.

So, I pitched an idea to the team - let's get Tuna Breath a comical amount of his favourite tuna, and surprise him when he munches down on a @cake.letters birthday cake. The team got on board, and oh boy was it glorious.

I stacked a poster tube with 14 tins, then taped it up with eBay tape to make it look like an online order. Then got a fancy looking gift box to make it look like we got him something sincere. Then, as a third and final joke, got him a single carrot that I individually wrapped for dietary balance (you should eat your veggies, kids).

The unboxing was perfect. He turned red as soon as he saw the tuna in the poster tube. Then, we deliberately put the nice, gift box on a table instead of handing it to him so he wouldn't feel the weight of it; he just needed to lift the lid and uncover the tissue paper, then BAM! more tuna tins. He nearly died when saw the 21 cans in the box. He could barely keep it together, and I was nearly pissing myself laughing from his reactions 'cause I'm a jerk.

Then he tried to walk away but I surprised him with the carrot - nicely wrapped to look like a pen box so again he was disappointed by our insincerity. His reaction was priceless - so much outrage and appreciation all at once. Ah, it was fun. He hated it at the time, and has put 3 calendar reminders to get me back on my birthday but I heard him telling his sister about it all when she called so I know he secretly loved it.

Tips for traveling with Little Sissy Pham: don't. 

The girl suffered through swollen ankles then a cold then constipation then headaches then motion sickness then claustrophobia. It was literally one thing after another for the whole 5 weeks. It was the worst.

Tips for traveling long distance flights: compression socks. 

Our friend told us to get socks the day before we spent 26 hours commuting but did we listen? No. We were lazy about going to the shops because we'd already tapped out and slid into holiday mode. It ruined Paris for Little Sissy - she was in agony the whole time we adventured to all the grand and beautiful sights. It also meant we couldn't pack as much into each day since she was in agony and didn't enjoy herself.

Instead, we bought compression socks in Paris for a lot more than we'd have spent at home as a lesson to always listen to clever friends who care about your health and well-being. Ijiuts. We wore the socks for the return flight and it helped a lot. We also wore it on long haul train rides between countries because in Europe you can get to most countries by high speed rail unlike in Australia where trains are slow and cumbersome. And in Brisbane where sometimes folks can't get home from work by train if the weather is too rainy or too hot. Australia's just not great at trains, hey.

So now I'm hoping that people reading this who are about to go on long haul flights will heed my warning to not be dumb like us. Wear compression socks and keep those legs moving - will save you a world of pain on the other end.

My car got a little smushed at a roundabout by an SUV that didn’t see me - maybe they were colourblind, my car is green. So I took the train for the couple of weeks while it was at the car doctors. What do you call those? Mechanics? I enjoyed public transport for the first few days, though I missed my morning car karaoke sessions. Then the early starts and longer, somber commutes began to wear me down. Still, it was fun to people watch on the bus and train.

I find it funny that some people who enter my life for fleeting moments on public transport, or driving through traffic will forever be remembered as the lady with the superhero run, or the suit with the epic yawn face, or the gym jock nose-picker. People in cars are my favourite though. They somehow think a clear dashboard window hides their hilarious, private antics.

My all-time favourite is a sweet moment a Dad and daughter shared. She was dancing and singing her heart out to whatever song was on the radio, and being a cheeky monkey. I still picture the glimpse into their lives when he turned to look at her at a red light as she strikes a dramatic hip hop pose, their eyes meet for a weighted moment, then they both burst out laughing like it was the best thing ever. That was real love right there.

So next time you’re walking the streets, sitting on public transport, or driving your car - remember, I could be creeping on you in my rearview mirror or through my windshield. But feel free to be yourself, and do embarrassing or sweet things like there’s no one watching.

Finally! A bicarb free, palm oil free and aluminium free deodorant that works really well, and lasts all day!

I was using crystal magic for the past year after trying half a dozen ‘natural’ deodorants. By natural, I mean aluminium chlorohydrate free. Most people who wear 'natural' deodorant are avoiding this compound that is possibly linked to cancer. I don't care about that though. I wanted a palm oil free deodorant because all the roll-ons in the super market contain conflict palm oil derived ingredients, which is killing orang-utans and devastating lands in less fortunate countries. So 'natural' deodorants was my only palm oil free option. Unlucky me though, I am sensitive to bicarb, which is the most common anti-odour replacement for aluminium chlorohydrate - it gives me painful, red and dry rashes. There are bicarb free pastes and roll-ons but the ones I tried only lasted a few hours and I was stinking by lunch time after applying in the morning. So for the past while I've been using crystals but they only fight my stench, they don’t help with my profuse sweating.

No Pong came across my Facebook feed as a sponsored ad and at first I was sceptical because advertising. But then I kept seeing real people’s comments raving about their product, so I had a look at the ingredients list. Alas, it had bicarb so I couldn't use it. But then a bicarb free version was developed. Again, I was sceptical because I had tried other bicarb pastes and still ponged but their bicarb version had such mad fans, I decided to give it a go. I am so glad I did - game-changer!

No Pong does what its name says. It stops the stink, and also absorbs sweat so you're nice and dry. A tiny pea-sized blob rubbed under each arm lasts all day. It also has the most pleasant and mild scent, which is another thing I didn’t like about other natural deodorants - they all used really strong oils that made smell like an incense stick whenever I raised my arm.

I’m now onto my second tub of No Pong already, and have not had a day where I needed to reapply! Though, I should note I do morning exercise then shower before I apply the anti-odourant - I’m not sure how it holds up if you go to the gym after work. I have just started going to Groove Therapy (pre-beginner’s dance class) once a week after work, and that’s fine. I’m not fresh afterwards because so much sweat, but I don’t reek either. Similar to how I felt after adult beginner ballet classes when I was using Dove deodorant  roll-ons. Not fresh, but not gross either. What can I say? I’m just a natural stinker. But No Pong helps with that while being bicarb-, aluminium- and palm oil-free! It really is wonderful, and I cannot recommend it enough!

We’re pretty excited about this announcement! Meet the newest member of our family - No Pong Low Fragrance, Bicarb Free! We’ve designed this No Pong especially for people sensitive to fragrances and bicarb in deodorants. As you can imagine, we wouldn’t release a product unless we were pretty sure it did what it says on the tin, and we believe this No Pong is just as ridiculously effective as our original, whether you are sensitive to those ingredients or not. Our all new patent-pending formula comes with some new premium all natural ingredients to get the job done, and a month of freshness is available right now for $6.95 + postage. -www.nopong.com

A post shared by No Pong, All Natural Deodorant (@nopong.deodorant) on Apr 28, 2017 at 12:41pm PDT