ALWAYS talk to strangers

I can clearly remember learning all about 'Stranger Danger' when I was about 6 or 7. A stranger was any adult I didn't know. Strangers were scary people who were always coming up with clever and cunning plans to steal me on my walk home from school. Never mind that I didn't ever walk home from school, I was taught that's when they were going to strike! I was so paranoid about strangers - even women, because I was that weird 6 year old who read newspapers and knew all about Myra Hindley and Ian Brady. The first word I remember looking up in a dictionary is 'garotte'.

With this in mind, it's taken me a long time to unlearn the paranoid lesson here and replace it with a sensible approach to life. You see, after moving to the other side of the world, I've learned you should ALWAYS talk to strangers! I don't mean it exactly like it sounds and we should all be running around shouting at each other and trying to engage in conversation with every person we should meet (but Jesus, London! A friendly smile every now and then wouldn't go astray!) But I think the lesson we all need to learn is that (with common sense) we should absolutely not be afraid to talk to strangers!

Just since I have been in London, I have had some amazing adventures with complete strangers!

When I was on my way to Berlin to meet friends from high school, I was travelling alone. My flight left so early that I was actually forced to catch the last bus to the airport and wait until 6.25am when my flight departed. As I arrived at the bus stop, I saw some others with suitcases and asked them if I was at the right stop. A lone girl and a lone guy said I was. When the bus arrived, I started chatting to the girl behind me in line - asking where she was off to. We sat next to each other on the bus and chatted for over an hour. We were both waiting for early morning flights so I asked her if she'd like to set up a camp with me on the floor of the airport. I said I had chocolate and Red Bull and she offered some chips (crisps for my UK friends). As we got off the bus, I stood beside the lone guy from the bus stop. So I told him of our plans and invited him to join us. He eagerly agreed and when we were settled, he bought us all hot chocolates. It was a fun six hours. The girl was able to get some sleep knowing her stuff wouldn't get stolen and the guy and I chatted about Italy and travel. We had breakfast together when the airport shops opened and at 6.25am, I caught my flight leaving behind Roxy and Francesco, my new friends!

Roxy, me and Francesco in Stansted airport

When I arrived in Berlin, I had over 24 hours to spend on my own. I made my way to my hostel and steadfastly refused to sleep and risk wasting a second in this new, amazing city. So I took a bus tour and saw some incredible sights. I had already decided I would be pushing myself so had bought a ticket to the Fun. concert. Stupidly, I misread 2100 as 7pm and arrived two hours early for the show. I joined the queue of excited Fun. fans and kept my ear out for a chance to talk to someone. Sadly, I was thwarted by my lack of a second language as everyone around me spoke German or French so I just waited. And waited.

Finally the gates opened but all people with online tickets had to present their tickets at a booth behind us in the line. The group of girls behind me gathered all their tickets into one pile and passed it to the closest girl who went to hand the whole stack over in one go. On a whim, I tapped one girl on the shoulder and pushed my ticket towards her. "Could you do mine too, please?" I begged. She handed my ticket on to her friend and turned back to me. In very good English she asked me why I was by myself!! Turns out of the three girls, two spoke very good English! The other spoke both French and German. The girls asked if I'd like to watch the concert with them. They shared their Pepsi, held my place while I bought my tour shirt and took photos to pass the time. We had a blast!

They stayed behind to hunt autographs from the band. I was forced to drag my poor body that had been awake for near on 42 hours by then back to the hostel leaving behind Carole-Ann, Lea and Celine, my new friends!

Carole-Ann, me, Lea and Celine at the Fun. concert

In my hostel, Simon, one of my high school friends had finally arrived and after a big day, we were in our bunks resting. A nice guy who was staying in our room started chatting to us and ended up inviting us out for drinks. Well, Simon was too tired but I was determined to have fun. After all...

So we wondered down the road from our hotel chatting. He was Brazilian and had seen quite a few European countries. We traded stories of our adventures and compared notes on our home countries. He bought a round of drinks and I bought the next round. The next day, Andrew, my other friend from high school arrived. Simon and I waved to him from the hostel room window as we saw him approach. Then we decided to hide in the bathroom while the Brazilian pretended to have booked out the whole room for his birthday and convinced Andrew he was in the wrong room. He played the part perfectly and I still laugh thinking about poor, confused Andrew while Simon and I stifled giggles in the bathroom. Then the four of us went out for dinner! It was fantastic, but he had to leave to go to the next country that morning. But when Fred left, we waved goodbye to our new friend!

Andrew, me, Simon and Fred at the hostel bar

The next night everyone from room 505 at the hostel was having drinks. I went downstairs to get something from the room. On my way back up, I noticed the button for calling the down elevator was crooked so I tried to straighten it - accidentally pressing it. When the doors opened for no reason, a  girl was standing there by herself. I apologised for pressing the button. She said it was ok and she was trying to decide if she should go to the bar or the lobby. I said 'the bar! Come on! Come back up with me!' So she did. I have never got along with a girl so quickly and so well. We were chatting about everything and sharing stories. She was American, travelling Europe. I sadly learned she wouldn't be going through London but we swapped Facebook details and hung out all night! I know she will gladly host me in New Jersey and she knows she is welcome in London anytime! My biggest regret of the whole Berlin trip (which will one day be rectified) is I didn't get a photo with Jennifer, my new friend.

Jennifer

Then there is the pinnacle of these stories. The absolute epitome of why you should always welcome a friendly stranger in to your life. Matt, my best friend in all of Europe! All of the Northern hemisphere in fact!

Zombie Marilyn Monroe and Tony Stark

I met Matt in a pub when I was with my brother. The series of little coincidences that lead to our actual meeting is astounding considering how much he has affected my life here in London. As much as falling off my scooter sucked, if I hadn't of I would not have met Matt as I would have been at work that day instead of testing out my recovery with a small day out before returning to work the very next day. We met when he called my brother out for making fun of the way Americans write the date backwards. We started chatting and nearly two hours later, swapped Twitter details. Matt came to visit me after my shift the next day and we went out to London Dungeon the week after. We've pretty much seen each other every week since. I introduced him to football and made him a Liverpool fan and he in turn taught me about baseball and made me a St. Louis Cardinals fan. For Christmas I bought him a Liverpool jersey and he bought me a Cardinals one. I took him to his first EPL game and one day, he will take me to my first MLB game.

Me and Matt at Anfield

When I went to LA last year, he arranged for his sister (who is an incredible girl who I am lucky to call a friend!) to play tour guide for me on my first night alone. We got on so well that I left Disneyland early to spend my last day with her before heading back to London.

Me and Matt's sister Boo in LA

When his sister visited recently, we spent heaps of time together taking in the sights of London.

Matt, me and Boo on the River Thames

Matt asked me to join a co-ed softball team with him and now we play every week. I have in turn made some more amazing friends on the team who I hang out with outside of softball.

Evan, Matt, me, Kieran, Krista, Aneil and Sam
Just some of the Basejumpers softball team!

I've also met Matt's other sister and even his Mum. Matt has hung out with my dad and was even with us when he visited his childhood home for the first time in 50 years. One day soon I am going to go to America and Matt will show me around his parts. I hope he comes to Australia so I can teach him how to throw a boomerang and wrestle his first croc.

I was talking to a friend from my softball team and he seemed shocked to find out how Matt and I met. But without that friendly act nine months ago, I wouldn't have even been having that conversation with a softball teammate. I have had some amazing adventures and these are only some of them. I love my life in London and the people I have met are a huge part of that.

And it's all because I ALWAYS talk to strangers.

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions:

• Have you had some amazing adventures with strangers?
• Have you ever made friends with a stranger?
• Has talking to a stranger ever gone wrong for you?

Disneyland & this semi-charmed kind of life... Part 1

"Ok, kids. What do you want to do tomorrow?" Dad would ask.

"Go to Disneyland!" I'd shout.

Everyone laughed, knowing that it would never happen. But it was always fun to dream. And we'd end up going to the pool, or a car event. But as the self-proclaimed "Happiest place on Earth", it was my dream (and the dream of every kid on the planet, I imagine) to go to Disneyland.

My younger cousins have been going on almost annual trips to America for years. Of course, this always includes Disneyland in California (or Disney World in Florida). I love them to pieces but words cannot adequately express my jealousy. It ached deep inside of me. It highlighted everything that sucked about growing up in a financially poor, single parent family.

My Dad worked hard and my brother and I never went without. In fact, we were discussing last weekend how Dad did everything he could for us, including paying for flying lessons for my brother to help him achieve his dream of joining the Air Force. He also saved up for me to have SCUBA diving lessons to achieve my (never realised) dream of becoming a marine biologist, even though the plan never eventuated when I instead failed the dive medical and ended up enduring months of hospital visits. All this when, in all actuality, anything beyond food on the table, a roof above our heads, clothes on our backs and fuel in the car, were pretty much luxuries.

But there was still a part of me that felt a sharp sting of jealousy whenever I saw photos of my cousins' trips to Disneyland. I think as a child, and then a teenager, it was only natural. There were so many framed photos on their walls and their faces, so happy, yet unaffected by the sheer fortune of their situation, smiled at me. The Disney characters all kids can name hugged them tightly. I asked them questions about Disneyland and they told me stories of breakfasts with Disney stars, wild rides with crazy special effects and breath-taking shows. They showed me their signature books and I read off the names of Disney royalty whose pens had scrawled so beautifully across the pages. They showed me their pin collections and I learned about Disney pin trading. To think people did this as a hobby was astounding. They brought me back my own souvenirs and I marvelled that they were from Disneyland - really from Disneyland! Funnily enough, they never got me my own pair of Mickey ears. As I got older, the sparkle and fantasy started to wear off. A new jealousy struck me. I would never... never... experience Disneyland through the eyes of a child like they had - like so many other children had. But as is my way, a childlike spark in me never gave up on the pure wonderment and magic that is Disneyland and I continued to view it as the "Happiest place on Earth" - not just for children, but for me too!

For me, Disneyland was a pair of personalised Mickey Mouse ears perched on your head. It was a half an hour wait to ride Pirates of the Caribbean. It was posing with Alice and asking her to sign your autograph book. It was eating cupcakes in the shape of Mickey Mouse. It was finding the hidden Mickey on every ride. It was staring up at Cinderella's Castle and imagining being a real princess. It was laughing at the ridiculous face you pulled when you looked at the photo taken somewhere in the darkness on Space Mountain. It was staring in wide-eyed amazement at thrilling stage shows, breath-taking light and water spectaculars and seemingly impromptu entertainment on every street corner. It was waving at every Disney princess as she passed by in the Disney parade. It was hugging Mickey Mouse. It was wondering through aisles of merchandise and picking the few items you simply could not live without. It was hugging the people near you because they were there, you were happy and one day, they might not be there. It was taking silly photos, candid photos, posed photos. It was days spent smiling - where nobody argued or bickered. It was... magical.

Sometimes it scares me how charmed my life is. There are moments that the cataclysmic scale of coincidence, luck and fortune collide to alter my world in such a way that it takes my breath away and has even, at times, reduced me to tears. I am blessed and I know it. The day in November last year when my Dad said "Can you get time off in early December?" was one of them. I asked why, as I was in London and had only recently started a new job. I was confused as I knew Dad would be in America with my uncle, aunty and cousins and couldn't understand what I could need time off for. His response floored me.

"I thought you might like to come meet us in California and come to Disneyland with us..?"

“Here is the world of imagination, hopes, and dreams. In this timeless land of enchantment, the age of chivalry, magic and make-believe are reborn - and fairy tales come true. Fantasyland is dedicated to the young-in-heart, to those who believe that when you wish upon a star, your dreams come true.”
-Walt Disney

To be continued...

Miss SAMawdsley xx

September 11 2001

As I type this I am watching Flight 93. It is the true story of what happened to United Airlines flight 93 that landed in Pennsylvania - killing 40 innocent people but saving an indeterminable number of others. You know the one. "Let's roll!" That one.

I watched September 11 happen live. Four days previously I had turned 16. I was outside feeding my cat when I heard Dad yell out "Samantha....? Come here..." It was a tone of voice I've not heard since. I ran straight inside. The fear in his voice hit me like a bucket of iced water and I could not fathom what news he was going to bring me. My brother had just joined the Air Force and I admit my first thought was that he had been killed - that was the tone of voice he used.

He was staring at the TV. On it was two tall buildings with smoke billowing from one of them. I stared at the TV trying to connect what I was seeing with the fear in Dad's voice. I stammered, "Is this a movie...?" Dad replied "That's what I thought, but look. It says it's live. I just flicked channels and saw this..." We watched live as the plume poured out and small, firey pieces of debris fluttered to the ground. We listened as the news reader speculated that it was possibly a gas explosion. He was as clueless as we were. What happened next will haunt me for as long as I live.

Suddenly the camera pulled back to include more cityscape and a plane entered the screen.

"Dad, where is that plane going? ... Dad? Dad! Where is that plane going? DAD!!!"

It makes my heart race and a knot form in my stomach to think about it. It seemed to look less like a plane hitting a building and more like a building swallowing a plane. It just... disappeared. It was obliterated. I knew nobody had survived.

Suddenly Dad and I connected the initial images of the burning building with the fate of its twin that we had just witnessed. This wasn't an accident. None of it was an accident. We watched as the fired burned and the smoke continued to billow. We listened intently for any skerrick of information that could help to make sense of the information we were hearing. That information never came. Never.

Cameras beamed images of people above the points of impact waving for help. They waved jackets and their arms. They would have been screaming for help, but we couldn't hear. And we couldn't do anything to help. We saw people falling from the buildings. No. Falling is not the right word. Jumping. They were jumping to their deaths. Plummeting to the ground was preferable to spending another second that close to the intolerable heat of the burning jet fuel. As is my way, I have since repressed this. Dad tells me I saw it. I don't remember. This was where my mind drew the line and ceased to cope.

We heard of a possible explosion or plane crash at the Pentagon. Details were fuzzy. It seemed to be the theme of the night. Fuzzy details. Speculation. Fear.

Fireman, policeman and ambulance crew arrived. With unwavering bravery they raced into the burning buildings to do what they could. My heart swelled with hope that there would be no more deaths. Those who were still alive would  be saved.

Then the building swayed.

It swooped.

And everything above the impact point collapsed.

The weight was too much for the rest of the structure to bear and the whole building fell.

It had been nearly an hour since the first impact.

Dad and I sat in shock. I cried. I don't remember what we talked about - what aspects of the events we were witnessing warranted discussion. But as the dust settled from the first tower collapse I suddenly said to Dad, "Could you imagine what it would feel like for the people still in the tower that's standing? They must be wondering if their tower will fall..." I will never forgive myself for saying this because literally as I finished my question, the second tower swayed, swooped and collapsed upon itself. Just as the first tower did. The horror I felt was indescribable.

Word had begun to come through of a plane crash in Pennsylvania  - but in an empty field. It seemed like a coincidence rather than part of the attacks. More fuzzy details. More speculation. More fear.

Dad insisted I go to bed. His compromise was to move the TV from the kitchen into my bedroom so I could watch until I fell asleep. I took notes in a notebook of everything I was hearing. I had to do something. I wrote in my diary.

What a horrible tragedy! The Trade Centre Towers in New York were hit by a Boeing 767 @ 10:50pm EST / 8:50am NYT, then another about 18 mins later. The Pentagon was hit. Then the 2nd hit tower collapsed followed by the 1st tower. A Pennsylvania plane was crashed. All were hijacked <- terroroists. I was saying, after 1st collapse "How horrible 4 ppl in 1st tower." Then it fell. I'm shaking and crying.

I fell asleep just before dawn. I don't remember why I went to school. Considering Dad let me have time off for the World Cup, I don't imagine I would have had trouble getting that day off school. It was a cold, wet, drizzle day. I wrote in my diary the next night too.

Eerie weather 4 an eerie mood. As if Mother Nature was holding a minute's silence. (Grade 11 did) Oh, it's terrible! I just wanna curl up and die. I don't wanna grow up just to fit into this cruel, sick, evil world. 2 do my help, I saved a cat today.

Two days later, television was still showing September 11 news broadcasts instead of normal programming. I couldn't wait to get home to see more and learn more. I needed some sense to be made from this. I still think about the events of September 11. Not just at anniversaries of the tragedy or at times like now - I am still watching the movie right now and have cried a few times so far. Watching September 11 live at the tender age of 16 affected me more than watching the news recaps ever could. And I hope I never witness anything that could affect me as much as long as I live.

Miss SAMawdsley xx

Questions

• Where were you when September 11 happened?
• Did you watch it live or did you find out about it when you woke up on the Wednesday morning?
• How has September 11 affected you?

Surrounded by our friends of every faith, we know this is not a clash of civilizations. It's a conflict between murderers and humanity. This is not a question of retaliation or revenge. It's a matter of justice leading to peace. The only acceptable result is the complete and total eradication of terrorism.

New Yorkers are strong and they are resilient.

We are unified and we will not yield to terror.

We do not let fear make our decisions for us.

We choose to live in freedom.