What draws us to a culture that's not our own? Why is it that many of us feel some inexplicable pull towards another lifestyle and country? For me it was always France.  Before even putting a foot on French 'terre' I was already a Francophile, studying French at school, working for Club Med and then working in Europe as a Tour Guide in my 20's. Strange that a beachy girl with surf clubby parents has always been smitten with everything French; Paris, French accents, food, wine and haunting medieval villages.

So it must have been destiny that led me to a Kings Cross nightclub in 1988 where with blatant lust I cracked onto the tall, dark and handsome Jean Michel.

He had me at 'bonjour'.

After 25 years living in Australia, my French husband  is a sort of Scott Cam meets Inspector Clouseau....an irresistable mix! Our 16 year old daughter speaks fluent French, so glad we persisted in drilling this into her from a young age..she's already thanking us.

On my very last night in France, I caught up with a Parisienne friend who I met on the beach in Ios, Greece when we were about 20. She (bitch!) is still looking totally bloody amazing. Now it must be said that not all French women are beautiful, trust me; this is a myth. The countryside is full of French Bogans with short back and side haircuts, sensible slip on shoes, daggy glasses and catalogue bought clothes. Honestly, sometimes in French villages I am the trendiest, most stunning woman on earth simply because I am not wearing an apron over my dress and a pair of Homi Peds. But; most Parisiennes are very stylish and exude a confidence in their sexuality which borders on threatening. Marie is no exception. Very slim and smokes too much, but hey, this is the real reason why French Women Don't Get Fat....cigarette in mouth equates to no food in Gallic stomach.

 Appearances count. Let me explain with a little 'l'histoire'.

I arrived outside her workplace for our drink and dinner date dragging four large plastic shopping bags full of cute souvenirs and trendy clothes for my daughter. Marie took one look at my burden and ushered me quickly (furtively?) down to the parking and thrust the bags into the boot of her car before we walked to a nearby bar. We had 2 drinks...no more, the French can be very prudent and disciplined with alcohol, sadly. Returning to the car I tried to reclaim my shopping bags to take into the restaurant so I could catch the Metro home straight after dinner. She just looked at me, looked down at the bags and said 'non'. It suddenly dawned on me that she was not stashing the bags to be helpful. It hadn't sunk into my thick head that there was NO WAY Marie was going to walk into a restaurant accompanied by a bag lady lugging four great big, ugly, plastic sacks! In a very polite but assertive way she enquired if I had anything more 'respectable' to carry them in? An acceptable compromise was to jam everything into my newly bought, rather spiffy and altogether 'respectable' black and white St Germain plastic coated carry bag. Voila! Phew! A major faux pas averted. Got to love those French.

A la prochaine (till the next time)

Dana

• Fab money saving tips to escape world wide recession
• Dana on TV...soon
• Considering cosmetic surgery
• God save us from MoVember!

Saving money

Apparently we're in a global downturn, surprise, surprise! As a Tour Guide for American educational tours I get paid in US $. This used to be a very good thing. Now it's not remotely a good thing. Seems I'm the only idiot who is looking at my diminishing account, still in US$, thinking 'No worries, it'll go up again". Very possibly not. Probably not.  I should take it and run. But, there's hope for us all. It's called 'thrift'. Budgets, economising and prudence is making a comeback. I never missed it. It was never my thing. There's an old German saying that 'clever men marry thrifty women'. Not lazy women or loud women or funny women....so that counts me out. But wait...I have come across some super little tips I simply must share with you..

Tip #1 'Instead of buying your friend a birthday gift, give her a hand made card with a packet of seeds, saying "Because you deserve flowers every day".' Yep, that'll do it, tears of joy and appreciation. So thoughtful. So personal. So...bloody scabby and pathetic.

Tip #2  " Pantyhose will last a lot longer if you pop them in the freezer before wearing'. OK, I'll take their word for it. Who the hell thinks of these things? Must have been poor old Gloria with a touch of Alzheimers who plonked the Streets Blue Ribbon in the lingerie drawer and the Kolotex in the freezer and made this momentous discovery "By Jingo, these pantyhose are as hard as nails, what a find!'

Tip #3 'Have an entree and a glass of wine before you go to the restaurant. This way you can enjoy the restaurant experience without the price tag. A main course split between two, will probably suffice.'....As a restaurant owner in my former life (married to a chef) I can't tell you how thrilled we were about this tip! 

Look guys, I've got to be honest with you. If I have to wander around town with a frost bitten fanny and a snap frozen gusset, lose all my friends doling out the seed packets whilst being evicted from restaurants as I sip water and savour my half a meal....it's not really a saving is it? Thrift, be damned. I will stand my ground and go down, down, down with my US dollars and worthless shares...with dignity and my head held high!

Dana on TV

All very hush hush but I will be on an ABC show early 2010...so stay tuned! I am doing what I do best. Speaking and being a bit funny.

Cosmetic Surgery

Following on from TV experience. All of a sudden you're totally self obsessed. Why wasn't I on TV when I was young and gorgeous? How do I look? What will I wear? Will an old boyfriend see me and think "OMG, lucky I got out when I did'. You see yourself in the mirror as you really are. Roadmaps across the face, jowls and eye bags...very Fred Bassett! Scary! Too late now. You can't help regretting not having done something about it.... why didn't I paralyse my forehead, sand blast my face off and plump up my lips? In fact if you care to, you can lift your bloody chin over your eyebrows and suck the fat out of your own arse and plunge it in your cheeks (the cheeks on your face, that is). It all seems to make perfect sense. Then you get over yourself a bit and think " Seriously does anyone except me really care.....and do I really care that much?' Naaah. 50 years old next year and I can still disco dance, remember where I live and have my own teeth, so it's all good.

MoVember

Brothers hear me. I'm all for a bit of money for prostate cancer research. God love you. I am committed to breast cancer research. But all of a sudden it's 'The Village People' everywhere you look. The wispy, the grey, the wiry, the sparse, the handlebar, the villainous, the unpashable, prickly, pubic like mo. And it's not just on Oxford St, it's EVERYWHERE.  I think it says something about men. You know how when there's a fancy dress party all the heteros can't wait to get into drag...any excuse! Roll on December...fat, jolly, old red cloaked blokes, handing out pressies with long white beards, much more sexy.

Till then!

Thailand is a very skanky place. Steamy, sleazy, unseemly and yes, plain skanky. Maybe that's why I love it so much. I hate spic and span, ethical, organised and efficient. That's why for me, Italy always trumps Germany, the Greek Islands win hands down over the Swiss Alps and the vibrancy of Spain enthuses more than squeaky clean Austria. Bangkok reeks sex as Murray Head revealed in his 1980's hit "One Night in Bangkok'. Lots of girls in bars waiting for Mr Right, or Mr Whoever I can Seduce to Make my Life a little Easier this Week. But amongst the poverty and girly bars is a new Bangkok with a rapidly emerging middle class of savvy, educated Gen Y. Gorgeous boys with impressively narrow hips, funky gelled hair and beautiful white teeth. Thai girls with long, glossy black hair and tiny bodies squeezed into obscenely short skirts worn with clicky-clacky heels. Actually they look pretty good, more hip than skanky. These kids hang out at slick bars and pulsing nightclubs with cover charges that would feed the average Bangkok family for a week. Wearing super innovative Thai designer fashion they have taken to Western franchises with a passion. It's prestigious to meet at Starbucks or Swensons Ice Creamery; it shows you've 'arrived'.

Bangkok is hot. Sometimes mind blowingly hot. Sweltering, suffocating heat. In the middle of Khao San Rd. I see signs for gyms and saunas. Saunas. Who the hell goes to a sauna in Bangkok? Bangkok IS a sauna. Just walk down the street and the sweat pours down your cleavage and stings your eyes. Why pay to go in a wooden room with steam rising from hot stones when you can just step out of the air con 7 Eleven onto the street for the same effect? I gape at Thai girls wearing ugg boots with mini skirts a la Pamela Anderson, only with an oriental flair and a pool of sweat in the toes.

Fiji is not Thailand. It's not Hawaii or Bali either. It doesn't know what it is. To me it overpromises and underdelivers. Food is very ordinary and service authentic 'island style' (read; hopeless). They mean well, they try. They flash their big white smiles and call "Bula"! Bula often means 'Stuff you, white tourist!'

And then there's Cairns. Or should I say 'Caaaaaaaaans". Another hot, steamy place. No one living in Cairns was born there. Those born there died of heat exhaustion or ran screaming for culture. No, all the 'locals' are from Victoria and NSW, some getting a little too in touch with their inner feral. More B.O. in Far North Queensland than anywhere else in Australia. Crocs abound too and not just in the rivers, but on the feet. 'Crocs' are footwear 'de rigeur' in Cairns. I have a borderline psychotic hatred of them. Is it just me? What are these things? Who wants to walk around on rubber pillows that look like Dutch clogs? Why have Australians taken to them with such passion? How many Parisians do you see wearing Crocs with their Hermes scarf? And there's an entire range of styles; ballerina Crocs, sling back Crocs, Birkenstock style Crocs, button up Crocs. No fear of them becoming endangered, they look set to stay, shame.

Winter is touring season for me. I've been a Tour Director for about 25 years and I love it and hate it. I just completed 3 tours in 3 countries, over 41 days touring, total 118 Americans. I know. I deserve the Victoria Cross. Or at least a sainthood. My first tour was a disabled group. Some blind, some deaf, 1 'little person', 1 in a wheelchair, cerebral palsy and a variety of learning disorders. It felt a bit like "Tommy, the Rock Musical'. I worried that I'd have to be sooo politically correct with them, but Man, they were so funny and brave, resourceful, thankful and energetic. We had our challenges. We made our presence felt. As the sun set on Robinson Crusoe island, our boat pulled into the shore. 'Wheelchair access' involved 2 huge, rugby built Fijians who simply lifted Jean, chair and all, and carried her up the beach. The blind stumbled a bit navigating their way over the sand and coral as the rest of us screamed encouragement with raucous whoops and cheers. In the middle of the beach was one solitary white clothed table, where a honeymoon couple were toasting their love in the most romantic way. The look on their faces when we arrived, was priceless.

My second tour was made up of 18 year old graduates who in the USA would not be able to drink or go clubbing till they were 21. It was a wild tour; think 'Porky's Downunder'. Got to say it was fun. A bit too much fun for a peri menopausal tour director.

My final tour pushed my professional diplomacy to its limit. There was a big, fat, mean, ignorant witch from Wichita who looked and acted just like Ursula the evil octopus lady in 'The Little Mermaid', only less attractive. I have told you before that I can only be nice to people for up to 11 days. This was a 13 day tour. One day, before I die, I am going to tell the Ursula's of this world, what I really think of them.

Dana's random thoughts, humour, tips and updates on what's funny

Observations from summer 2009

We've just come out of summer in Sydney. Stinking hot, sunny and sweaty. Lots of strapless dresses and singlets. As I said, ‘stinking hot'. What's going on with B.O?

I have a bit of a thing about B.O. Actually I'm obsessed about it. If I get a whiff of someone's BO, that's it for me; it changes my whole opinion of them. How can you smell that bad and not notice? I just don't get it. I mean for God's sake, it's 2009. Soap, deodorant and regular bathing are NOT luxuries! It's not the Middle Ages you filthy, lazy freak. Why doesn't someone in their family say to them "Granddad, you stink"!

Who would have thought that B.O. could be entertaining? Remember in ‘Seinfeld' when Jerry couldn't get the stench of the valet's B.O out of his car? The car was professionally steam cleaned; the doors and windows left open...but nothing could get rid of the smell. Anyone who spent time in the car was impregnated with the B.O smell. As Jerry said "It's destroying the lives of everyone in its path". Check out this scene after the car had been steam cleaned:

Jerry: It still smells.

George: How could it still smell after all that?

Jerry: I don't know.

George: Well, what are you gonna do?

Jerry: I'll tell you what I'm gonna do, I'm selling that car.

George: You're selling the car?

Jerry: You don't understand what I'm up against. This is a force more powerful than anything you can imagine! Even Superman would be helpless against this kind of stench! And I'll take anything I can get for it.

George: Maybe I'll buy it.

Jerry: Are you crazy? Don't you understand what I'm saying to you? This isn't just an odour! You need a priest to get rid of this thing!

(Elaine comes in)

Elaine: I still smell.

Jerry: You see? You see what I'm saying to you? It's a presence! It's the beast!

Now I am married to a Frenchman. The French are famed for their fragrance houses. Ah, oui; Chanel, Givenchy, Yves St Laurent. But let me tell you, they are not famed for their application of Spray Fresh! In fact, I am married to the only deodorant wearing Frenchman on the planet. Quelle surprise! But when we go over to France and other parts of Europe I am subjected to eye watering B.O. onslaughts every day. They don't spell that out in the tourist brochures. Don't sit down on The Paris Metro. You have been warned. There will be a crisp looking businessman in a suit and tie standing over you; arm up stretched holding the strap. His ‘toilette' will not have extended to his armpits. Quelle horreur, pepe le pew!

Once, in my Halcyon Days as a Contiki Tour Leader there was a young guy on the tour. I suppose he had a name his parents gave him but we all called him ‘Woody' (he was the spitting image of Woody Allen, just to give you an idea of what a hot, chick magnet this 23 year old was!) This guy absolutely reeked. His B.O. was that special strain: The 4 day stale unwashed shirt variety. On the tour coach there were 53 seats, including me we totalled 53, so not a seat was free. But no one was going to sit next to that pongy, ugly 60 year old looking weirdo, so passengers actually sat on the floor of the bus aisle rather than risk "Death by B.O." by being within sniffing distance of him. Now you can't have paying clients on a 6 week coach tour sitting on the dirty floor, looking at people's knees instead of the Swiss Alps, can you? So, it was up to me, Tour Leader Extraordinaire to have a little chat with Woody about his lapse in personal hygiene. I knew how sensitive an issue this would be, how carefully I would need to tread, how embarrassing for him, awkward for me, altogether very delicate. So with all the tact and diplomacy I could muster I pulled him aside and said ‘Woody, you stink".

Summer with the French Pig Farmers

Our family just spent 3 weeks showing our French country friends the beauties of NSW. Their family of 5, ours of 3, all together every day, every night, all over Sydney, up the coast, down the coast, in the mini van for 22 days. They did not always wear deodorant.

Lessons learnt from 3 weeks with our French Pig Farmer visitors;

• I can still only be nice to people for up to 11 days. Beyond that I cannot be held responsible.

• One can get the flu from having the air conditioning on in the van in the middle of summer. It will blow on the neck and cause pneumonia. The French health care scheme is so good that it has produced a people for whom hypochondria is not a mental disease, it's a national sport. Go France!

• One should not venture out ‘sans' scarf and cardigan in the middle of an Australian summer. Trousers, a long sleeve button up shirt, socks and leather shoes look beaut on Bondi beach on Boxing Day.

• Curry is an unheard of exotic food experience. Cheese should still be served after a Thai meal.

• There is no edible bread in the whole of NSW

• Do NOT dive into the ocean or the pool. Always prepare the body for the water temperature by splashing the water over your arms and legs first to avoid having a heart attack from the shock.

• All forms of pasta are to be hacked and chopped and sawn into little, baby pieces before being shovelled onto spoons. Twisting of pasta around fork an unknown practice even though right next to France is...Italy!

• Pig farmers are vegetarian. I guess the colouful visits to the abattoir make zucchinis immensely appetising.

• All French children have an incredibly valuable contribution to make to adult conversation and should feel free to interrupt at will and be given full attention and indulgence at all times.

• Australia actually makes drinkable wine. Some of the champagne is even EQUAL to that of France. Who would have thought?

Quotes for this month's musings

"A dinner that ends without cheese is like a beautiful woman with only one eye." Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin (French gastronome 18th, 19th century, his surname now the name of a yummy cheese)

"The French are sawed-off sissies who eat snails and slugs and cheese that smells like people's feet"     P J O'Rourke (American political satirist)

"No body ever drowned in his own sweat" Ann Landers (American Journalist)

‘Americans want grungy people...they get a bright bunch like us, with deodorant on, they don't get it" Liam Gallagher (Oasis, UK band)

"It's never been my thing...sometimes mid day at work I freshen up" Julia Roberts, on not wearing deodorant (American actor)