Eating Porridge From a Stick
Part One of Thoughts from an Author Abroad
This is the first of a three-part series on separate sets of thoughts after my recent trip to the UAE for the Sharjah Children’s Reading Festival. I’m all about the power and importance of thinking so do please read the introductory post here for the thinking behind this little series.
Part One: Eating Porridge from a Stick
Coping with the expected and unexpected challenges (and joys) of travelling to do author events is all about preparation. The only way I can look like a swan while paddling furiously and invisibly beneath the surface is that I have prepared for every piece of duckweed I might meet there.
If I ever wrote a memoir about doing author events, it would be called Eating Porridge from a Stick. In the time I recently spent at the Sharjah Children’s Reading Festival, I did not eat porridge from a stick but only because I came prepared. Let me explain.
Travelling for author events is all about prediction and preparation
You have to predict what you will need, know how to make sure you get it (without asking for it - I suppose you might ask for it but I’m too focused on looking swanlike) and be ready to deal with the unexpected by expecting anything at all. You learn most of this by experience, very often the hard way. And everyone is different, so only you can know what you will need.
After a lot of experience, I know what I will need
Porridge. I don’t remotely like porridge but I know that I won’t want a hotel breakfast before I do an event but I know that I will need energy. (Which you don’t get from those “breakfast bars”, full of sugar and weird unheard-ofs.) I know I need to be on my own, going over the words I’m going to say, psyching myself up, checking that I have everything ready to go. With a porridge pot. And coffee. At least two cups of something decent.
Coffee. See above. Hotels provide either disgusting sachets or pods for a machine that works differently from every other machine you’ve met, if at all, or at best eventually spits out something only marginally better, and a lot smaller, than the disgusting sachets. So I bring individual cardboard filters, even to the best hotels (as this one was).
A plastic bag and a clip because once I’ve open the bag of ten filters, I can’t close it and my underwear will thenceforward smell of coffee.
A spoon. Nowadays many hotels don’t trust me with a spoon and instead provide, with great imagination and care, a thin stick. I might be able to stir coffee with a stick but eating porridge from one is something I can confirm is not recommended.
If travelling to Spain or the US - and maybe some other places, for all I know - a kettle. I always take a kettle unless I know one is provided.
A big bag of dried fruit and nuts and a little box to decant it into for each day’s work. This is because I don’t know when I’ll be offered food and, if I am, what it will be and whether I’ll want to eat it in front of people trying to talk to me and take photos. It might be cake, which sounds nice but is a) not good for energy and b) not something I like as much as apparently all other humans do. It might be, as it remarkably once was, a raw onion sandwich.
A small mirror. In case you’re given a poppyseed bagel or a spinach wrap. Do I need to explain?
A thick skin. People can be unwittingly - and even wittingly - undermining. Sometimes that’s nerves; sometimes understandable ignorance; rarely it’s deliberate. I’ll be honest here and say that with some teenagers it may well be deliberate. They have more to worry about than my feelings, if I have any, which they may doubt.
Ear-plugs. Eye mask.
Night-time routine items, because in hotels I do need a night-time routine, even if it’s a special one for hotels. Mine involves M&S aniseed, fennel and liquorice herbal tea; lavender oil; Rescue Remedy; ear-plugs; and eye mask.
The understanding that, especially overseas, I will be on constant alert. This is because the more unfamiliar my surroundings and the further I am from home, the more my human brain is wired to be alert.
Wired to be alert
New things, new places, new experiences, even wonderful ones - all require attention. After all, being stalked by a giant green penguin is not something that is easy to ignore. And paying attention is what being alert is. It’s also what being stressed or anxious is. So, yes, we can deal brilliantly with that, even giant green penguins if necessary, especially when we’re experienced and have excellent techniques, but it’s really important to understand and accept that it is entirely natural to feel on edge and also to be exhausted for a while afterwards. I know to build that into my schedule and not expect to be back to normal any time soon.
Preparing for this trip
I’d been to the same festival ten years ago so I knew a lot of what to expect. Here’s how I prepared and what happened!
All the above. And there were sticks, not spoons, so my little spoon was a big hero!
I knew the festival itself would be NOISY and sensorily overloading to this quiet person. But it was my job to be there and to cope, so I made sure I scoped the venue out before my events. And I made sure that I got quiet time every now and then, by the simple expedient of occasionally disappearing….
As is common with festivals, I had not been able to communicate with the school I’d be visiting, so I knew there was a risk they’d be really unprepared and that could/would make the event very hard to deliver brilliantly. So I’d made a one-page message to the students, showing them what to expect and how they could get the most from my visit, and sent it to the festival organiser to pass on. And she did! (This is not always the case.) And the school took notice of it. (Definitely not always the case…) For clarity, the presentation on the screen behind me in the photos is not something I created and I certainly wasn’t expecting it!
I knew that the Emirates Business Class flights would be incredibly relaxing and luxurious. I determined to use the time relax properly and to eat and drink healthily - Champagne is very healthy, I believe… and to keep hydrated, breathe well and close my eyes sometimes.
My trip to Sharjah was exactly as I knew it would be: exhilarating and exhausting. But the main thing I was prepared for is the complete unexpected. In this case, the biggest box of chocolates I’ve ever seen. Yes, they did all make it home in my suitcase but don’t bother trying to break into my house as there are none left. I blame my husband.
Thank you to the Sharjah Children’s Reading Festival for inviting me and treating me so luxuriously from my pick up to go to the airport till the moment I arrived back in my house, happily holding many wonderful memories and proudly clasping my hero spoon!
Next time, in Part Two: Drinking Watermelon from a Goblet, I’ll talk about my extraordinary experience speaking to young people in schools in Sharjah and Dubai. I’ll ask you your opinion on something important. I am genuinely confused about my response to what happened and I’d appreciate your insights. It will be with you in the next ten days or so.
🙏