2013: Year of Risk

Risk #15 - Getting inked

I’ve wanted to get a tattoo for over 10 years, but I was always too chicken.

First of all I hate pain. When I got my widsom teeth out, my surgeon said I took more pain killers than anyone she’d ever operated on. Then there was the fear of catching a blood born disease. It would majorly suck to exchange some pretty ink for a life long virus, including some nasty ones that could kill you.

And finally, how could I possibly settle on a design that I’d be happy to have engraved on me forever?!

But on Christmas day my wonderful husband announced that one of my gifts this year would be that tattoo that I’ve always wanted. Best husband ever! My Year of Risk year kicked off with a platinum pixie cut and it seemed somewhat appropriate to book-end a transformative 12 months with my first ever tattoo.

I spent the week between Christmas and New Years mulling over a few designs, including some I’d been toying with for years. Finally I settled on a bird in full flight, a symbol of my new found freedom. But there were so many different styles, colors and sizes to choose from.

One afternoon I stumbled across a beautiful water-color design by an artist called Gene Coffey from Tattoo Culture in Brooklyn. I loved the way it looked like a hand drawn sketch, the placement of the tattoo and the beautiful use of color. But I didn’t like the excessive use of bold black lines and the angles of the wings which made the bird look a little menacing and aggressive. I wanted something more femanine, with brigther, happier colors and for the wings to be more out-stretched and free.

After a bit more research I found an artist at White Rabbit Tattoo Studio in the Lower Eastside called Felix whose portfolio showed designs similar to the one I had in mind. My husband and I also made sure they had exceptional hygiene practices so I wouldn’t encounter any nasty surprises.

So two days before the New Year I got my first ever Tattoo. It took an hour, and hurt about as much as I expected. Felix started by drawing the outline of the bird on my back with a pen and then filed it in with ink. The initial outline wasn’t too painful - it felt like I had a sunburnt back and someone was scratching it (and I wish they wouldn’t). But the colored shading really hurt, especially when he did the bits on my shoulder blade. That bit felt like lasers and daggers… By the time it was over I was very relieved, and thirsty! I think I’d been holding my breath for the majority of the experience.

Felix lead me over to a floor length mirror to inspect my new ink. I gasped! It was so beautiful. I couldn’t be more happy with the design and Felix’s handiwork.

Every day since I have admired my beautiful bird which reminds me of my freedom from anxiety and one of my favorite Bible verses in Matthew 6:

“Do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?”

Quite a few people from home had a hard time believing it was real at first. After all, Hannah 2012 would never get a tattoo! I guess that goes to show how truly transformative my Year of Risk has been. 

#14 Running the New York City Marathon

Our friend Pete runs a fantastic charity called Kick4Life that provides holistic care to vulnerable children in Southern Africa including health care, education opportunities, mentoring and support onto employment.

So when he approached Eddie and I about taking part in the New York City marathon in support of this cause, we were excited to get involved. Not only would we get a chance to participate in the world's greatest race, but we'd also be raising awareness and valuable funds to support children in serious need. What an opportunity!

After some hesitation (did I mention that a marathon is 26.2 miles, or 42.2 kms?!) we took the plunge and signed up for the race.

Over the next three months we rallied our family and friends to support Kick4Life through our marathon challenge. We ran hundreds of miles in training and I obsessively collected athletic gear made from thermo-dynamic-something-a-rather that promised to wick away sweat and change your life in the process. 

Finally, race day arrived. On a chilly November morning we donned our placebo gear and boarded the Staten Island Ferry en route to the race start. I'll never forget the beginning of the New York City Marathon. The American national anthem was proudly sung, a cannon fired and off we went to the blaring soundtrack of New York, New York. From the first bridge we had a spectacular view of the Manhattan skyline, while an NYPD chopper hovered in the foreground. The scene was beautiful and totally surreal.

Over the next four hours we ran through the five boroughs of New York. The whole way people cheered and danced and handed out supplies. A colleague and seasoned marathoner had told me to affix my name to my shirt so supporters knew my name. And boy I was glad I did! Every time I hit a physically or phycological wall, I'd just run towards the edge of the road and soak up some encouragement from the crowd "You got this Hannah", "Go Hannah! Quitting is not an option". We were so grateful to see enthusiastic, familiar faces along the way, including some very creative supporter signs!

The last 10km nearly broke my spirit. I felt nauseous from too much energy gel and Gatorade, and there were points when I was convinced that my legs would simply stop working. But thanks to the encouragement of my amazing husband who ran beside me every step of the way, we finally made it across the finish line in Central Park.

Running the New York City marathon was an experience of a lifetime. But what made the experience so special was the fact that we could do it in support of Kick4Life.

Thanks to the generosity of so many family and friends we were able to raise over $6300 toward this truly worthy cause. These fund are already being used to help support some of the world's most vulnerable children.

#13 Poetry slam

A friend told me that they'd attended a 'Friday Night Slam' at The Nuyorican Poet's Cafe and that it was by far the best $10 they'd ever spent in New York.

So I went along one Friday to see what all the fuss was about. They were right! It was an incredible experience. We enjoyed impassioned poetry recitals and perfectly timed R&B tracks between sets. It reminded me of that rap battle scene from Eminem's movie 8 Mile. Needless to say we had the best time ever!

A few weeks later I went back with a large group of rowdy Australians. We sat up the back and cheered loudly when the MC asked if there were "any Australians in the house" (having already listed all of the Boroughs of New York, and a few other countries). She then asked for volunteers from the crowd to judge the upcoming poetry slam. I quickly raised my hand, wanting to fully immerse myself in the experience this second time around.

I was handed a mini white board for scoring and a piece of paper to write my name and why I was qualified to judge the slam.

Egged on by my Aussie counterparts, I proceeded to write 'Because I'm Australia's greatest poet' as my justification. I handed it in with a sinking feeling in my stomach... I was definitely going to be asked to recite a poem to back up my bold claim.

So as the MC introduced the other judges to the crowded room I racked my brain for a short poem I could recite off the cuff, perhaps something I learnt at school... Suddenly it came to me. If I was put on the spot, I would recite the chorus from a certain famous Australian song. If said slowly enough, and with enough passion I was sure it could pass as poetic.

Eventually the MC arrived at my piece of paper. "Do we have a Hannah in the house?" I nervously raised my hand, and listened as she read out my ballsy rationale. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are fortunate enough to have Australia's best poet with us tonight. Wouldn't we love to hear one of her poems?" The audience cheers. 

I cleared my throat and begin. 

We are one. But we are many. And from all the lands on earth we come. We share a dream, but sing with one voice. I am, you are, we are Australian.

Silence, followed by applause. Little did they know I had just recited a few lines from the song I am Australian written by the Seekers in the year I was born. And the reason I could recall the words so clearly, is because they were used as part of a national advertising campaign for Telstra, Australia's largest telecommunications provider.

The poetry slam kicked off and we enjoy three rounds of seriously amazing poems. 

During an interval the MC invited anyone who was interested in learning the Wobble (which I soon discovered was an R&B version of the Macarena) to come up the front. Excited by the prospect of learning some new moves I walked forward, expecting some of my Aussie companions to join me. 

The next thing I know I'm standing on stage trying to mimic people around me who are seamlessly doing the Wobble. Turns out I was the only one on stage who didn't actually know the dance. My friends enjoyed watching from afar as I awkwardly two-stepped my way through the moves. 

#12 Getting a job in 24hrs

A few months after arriving in New York we had irreversibly fallen in love with the city and we really wanted to stay longer-term. But the deciding factor would be whether or not I could find a job. So with an updated resume in hand I began looking for an exciting new opportunity. 

During my search, I was invited to attend fantastic conference called The Westchester Digital Summit. It was at this conference that I met Poppin's Chief Marketing Officer. 

After his presentation I walked up to him and told him how excited I was about the brand, and that I was looking for an exciting new role. He suggested I arrange to meet with Poppin's VP of Business Development who was hiring for a number of position. 

He introduced me to my now manager and we arranged to meet for an interview the following morning - the same day I was due to fly back to Australia as my 90 day tourist visa was about to expire.

I really enjoyed meeting the Poppin team, learning more about the brand, its mission to help people Work Happy and the exciting future ahead for this New York based start up.

After my interviews, I raced back to my Airbnb apartment, jumped in a cab with my suitcases headed to the airport. On the way Poppin's senior recruiter called, asking for some references and my preferred start date. I couldn't believe how quickly this was all happening!

I boarded my flight and when I arrived in Sydney 30hrs later I checked my email and found a letter of offer in my inbox. Such miraculous timing!

All along I knew that as soon as I got a job offer I would need to return to Australia in order to process my longer term visa and work permit. It just so happened that the day I arrived in Sydney was the day a job offer came through. 

And what fun I've had at Poppin over the past six months. Every Monday we celebrate TGIM (Thank God It's Monday) where three people across the company take it in turns to organize festivities of some kind. We actually have an entire budget dedicated to Mondays. We've enjoyed Mexican Fiestas, duck tape fashion parades, built mouse traps out of colorful office supplies and had many a dress up party.

I love going to work each Monday, and have had amazing opportunities to explore the U.S, taking the happy Poppin story to tradeshows in Philidelphia, Las Vegas, Seattle and Chicago.

The team at Poppin is first class. We work hard and play hard, passionately helping people work happy by introducing fashion, fun and pops of color into dreary work places.

#11 Breaking my idea of 'home': seven apartments in six months

I really loved our apartment in Sydney. The way sunshine streamed across our living room on a fine day, and how I could crawl into bed when it rained and recharge, hidden away from the busyness of life. It was our place, our home, secure and safe from the world outside.

Almost a year ago we packed up that cosy apartment, our home of six years, hopped on a plane and flew to New York City. Over the course of six months we lived in seven different short-stay apartments across Manhattan, as we looked for work and a battled to secure a permanent lease. 

By the end of six months we'd stayed in apartments at Columbus Circle, Kips Bay, the Lower East Side, Murray Hill, the Upper West Side, Harlem and Tribeca. 

Being foreigners, we arrived in the U.S without a recognized credit rating which meant we would have a really hard time securing a long term lease. It took months to get approval for an American credit card due to the fact that we didn't yet have a permanent address. But the conundrum was that without a credit card we couldn't build up the credit rating, the rating we so badly needed to secure a lease. Do you see the Catch 22?

We moved to New York in January, but it wasn't until August that we finally had a breakthrough. We finally signed a 12 month lease in Lower Manhattan.

The morning we moved in, all we had was four suitcases. That same day we raced around Brookyln, Jersey and Manhattan with a Uhaul truck picking up furniture we'd bought from Craigslist (like Gumtree for Aussie readers) and spent 3 hours in Target buying all of our kitchen gear, linen and bathroom supplies in one go. 

Some dear friends brought around take out Thai and champagne to celebrate our new home after living as nomads for six months.

I actually got really emotional hanging our clothes in our wardrobe. No longer would we be living out of a suitcase on a daily basis. We even got our first ever real Christmas tree this year. The smell of pine every time we walk through our front door is divine. 

This year I have learnt many things about where I place my security. I used to find comfort in our safe, predictable, O.C.D-neat home in Sydney. But I've come to realize that home is much more than four walls and a place to rest your head. It's friends and family that make homes the wonderful places they are. And we are beyond blessed to have been cared for by many beautiful friends during our season wandering the city that never sleeps in search of a home to call our own. 

#10 Interactive theatre

(Spoiler alert: I suggest not reading this post if you are planning on seeing Sleep No More. It may ruin the mystery a little.)

Knowing about my new found appetite for the unusual and adventurous, some friends recommended my husband and I check out an interactive theatre production called Sleep No More.

Some quick internet research revealed that the production was actually a combination of an Alfred Hitchcock play and Shakespeare's McBeth. I also discovered that the setting was a three story hotel in Chelsea. Apparently you could stand in a room and watch scenes come and go, or chase a protagonists through the play (and the hotel). What an amazing concept!

The only insider tips we received from our friends was that we should wear comfortable shoes and that one of us should be the last person in the elevator at the start. 

On arrival we were given masks that looked like the ones from Scream, and playing cards to determine the order in which we'd enter the play. We were instructed not to speak but only observe, and that our masks had to be worn at all times.

When our aces of spades were called, we piled into an elevator with a few other audience members, Eddie making sure he was the last one inside. A bald man wearing a tuxedo welcomed us to the McKittrick hotel and wished us a pleasant stay. The elevator doors opened and Eddie stepped out into a dark room. Before any of us could follow him, the bald man put his arm across the door and pushed the close door button. Eddie was left all alone on the first floor of the hotel while the rest of us continued to level three. 

The room the rest of us entered was a creepy hospital ward full of empty beds. I felt sick to my stomach imagining poor Eddie wandering around in the eery set on his own. At the end of a long hallway I found a large room filled with a labyrinth constructed from branches. Two zombie-like nurses wandered back and forth in the maze. Just as I was becoming suitably freaked out, Eddie came up behind me and tapped me on the shoulders. I let out a muffled scream. 

We walked through the remainder of the third floor together, hands gripped tightly together. As we watched the unmasked actors roam, I kept thinking to myself how perfect a setting this would be for an episode of C.S.I. The opening scene would begin with an audience member being killed, and then their body would be ignored for the duration of the play because people would pass by thinking it was part of the immaculate set. I pushed this frightening image aside.

We headed down to the lower level and something occurred to me. In order to whole heartedly embrace this uncomfortable experience, and be true to my year of risk, Eddie and I needed to part ways. So I counted to 10, let go of his hand and ran down the corridor in the opposite direction.

Strange things happened over the course of the next 2 hours. For example, I was watching a scene being played out by two actresses in an empty bar, and at the end of the scene an actress wearing a red satin dress approached me and whispered in my ear "Wait here, I have something to show you". For a split second I thought about running, but stood my ground in true YOR spirit.

She returned, took my hand and lead me behind a door that was previously locked. The room was a perfect pallor - complete with a roaring fire, velvet couches, bookshelves and period art. As we entered she locked the door behind, us preventing any other audience members from joining the scene. I was about to experience a monologue.

She kissed my forehead with her bright red lips and removed my mask. We sat on a couch and she began to tell me a terrifying tale. "Jack and Jill sailed across the sea". She placed a delicate cup and saucer on my open palm and begun pouring pitch black liquid from an ornate teapot. "But during their journey there was a terrible storm". She folded an origami boat and placed it adrift inside the tea cup. "The boat sank and everybody drowned". Dramatically, she submerged the tiny paper boat under the black liquid and started an evil, cackling laugh. I respond with more nervous laughter.

Then she took my hand and led me behind some thick, black curtains. At this point I am beyond freaked out. The sound of crashing waves and gale-force winds fill the space and her evil, cackling laugh continues. She grabbed me by my shoulders and swayed me back and forth like I'm standing on the deck of a ship in an overpowering storm. After a few minutes (which felt like hours) the soundtrack cut out, the swaying ceased, she replaced my mask and pushed me out a hidden door into a crowded hallway. A large group of people stared back at me, a thousand questions behind their masked eyes. My heart pounded heavily and I walked down the hallway into an adjoining room to compose myself watch the next scene.

After a few more hours exploring and watching the most incredible silent dance routines, the whole audience was ushered into a large room where we watched a last supper scene involving the main characters from both plays. I won't spoil the finale, but lets just say its gruesome and very dramatic.

The lights faded to black and everyone is herded into a buzzing jazz bar. We took off our masks and headed to the bar for a stiff drink. I found Eddie in the crowd and Martini's in hand, we watched the most incredible jazz set and begin furiously swapping stories about all the weird and wonderful things we'd seen during the evening.

Even now, when people ask us what's the best New York experience we've had so far, we still say Sleep No More. I'd go again in a heartbeat. I'm sure there are rooms in that hotel we're yet to discover, and scenes we missed being played out. 

Risk #9: Skiing 6km down a very misty mountain. Did I mention I don't know how to ski? 

Earlier in the year, during a visit to Montreal, my fun-loving husband suggested we take a spontaneous trip to some nearby ski fields. So we hired a car and drove to Mount Tremblant.

Having never really skied before I was a very nervous, so upon arrival I signed up for a hour crash-course with an instructor. Immediately after my lesson ended, I was somehow coaxed inside an enclosed pod and whisked to the top of the mountain.

The whole way up, I was under the impression that I would see off my husband who was heading down the black run, and then I could catch the chair lift back down the mountain to safety.

But being my year of risk this scenario was not to be. 

When we got to the summit, I was somehow persuaded by Eddie to jump out of the pod and bravely (or stupidly) attempt a decent on my newfound ski-legs.

As we set off down the mountain I couldn't see more than a few feet ahead of me. The mist was so thick there was no telling where drops off began and ended, or where trees marked the edge of the piste.

Every now and then a 12 year old without polls would go whizzing past me laughing, as I snow ploughed my way in a frenzied fashion down the slope.

At one point I was so convinced I wouldn't make it down the mountain alive I called out to invisible Eddie somewhere ahead in the mist. "For the record, record, record... I'm not having any fun, fun, fun!"

The echo made the situation seem even more comical. How had I let myself end up in such a terrifying situation?

Eventually we made it to the bottom and I toppled over in a heap in the snow. Relief flowed through my aching body. 

Risk #8: Dining in the dark

During a recent visit to Montreal, I was on the look out for things to do that were little out of the ordinary. So I was delighted when a friend suggested an unusual restaurant called O'Noir. 'Noir' is french for 'black'. And that's exactly what defines your dining experience at this establishment - pitch black darkness.

There is no light whatsoever inside the restaurant (no illuminated exit signs, no mobile phones allowed) and you enter via a series of black curtains to prevent any rouge beams entering.

Another unique thing about O'Noir is that the entire wait staff are legally blind. That means that their sight is equivalent or less than a tenth of the sight of an average person. 

What an amazing concept! And a fantastic way to experience a small part of what life might be like for someone visually impaired.

I had no idea what to expect before we went. Would I trip over trying to find our table? Would my meal end up all over my face and in my lap? What if I accidentally touched another patron, or even worse - what if a creepy invisible hand was to reach out and touch me! To be perfectly honest I was a bit nervous about the whole thing. But with my Year of Risk well and truly underway, I had no choice but to embrace the uncertainly.

We arrive at O'Noir for our 7pm booking, and in the dimly lit reception area we stow our coats and bags in lockers and pre-order drinks and a selection of dishes from their 2-3 course menus. In the true spirit of risk-taking, my husband and I select one dish that we actually want to try and then opt to share a 'surprise' entree and dessert. How cool will it be to have to figure out what we're eating, as well as where the heck it is on the table!

Next we're introduced to our waitress Stephanie. One of the first things I notice is that she is wearing a crisp, distinctively perfume. I breath it in deeply, trying to commit it to memory so that I can keep track of where she is once we're inside.

Stephanie asks us to form a line by placing our right hands on each other's shoulders then leads us behind a series of thick black curtain and inside the restaurant. As we walk in single file, she says 'Attention! Trois persons' (careful, three people coming) every few steps to warn oncoming waiters.

We arrive at our table and Stephanie helps us locate our chairs, water glasses and cutlery. She tells us that if we need anything during the course of our meal, we should just call out her name and she'll appear. Magic! She leaves to collect our drinks.

We sit in silence for a few minutes soaking it all in. Bustling conversations, the delicious smell of food swirling around us, and the bizarre realisation that no matter how hard we try to focus our eyes we won't be able to see a single thing. 

Stephanie returns with our cocktails. I smell her perfume wafting towards us as she approaches. She taps us on one shoulder to indicate the direction she's moving the glass and then guides our hands to find it. Gin never tasted so good, and the ice seems extra cold. 

We decide to explore the darkness a little by stretching out our arms and legs to get a sense of the space. I'm pretty sure I touch a bald head behind me, and we discover that there is a couple sitting directly opposite us, facing us. Weird! 

Stephanie brings over our surprise entree. We stab around in the dark with our forks trying to find it. Finally I dig into some sort of toast while Eddie tries to scoop up whatever has fallen off it. We think it's bruschetta. Whatever it is, it's delicious!

Suddenly a table to our right starts singing Happy Birthday. Within a few minutes, everyone else joins in - the whole restaurant bursts into song. Amazing! Eddie and I sign along at the top of our lungs. The anonymity is delightful.

When the english version ends, another table to our left take it from the top in French, followed by another table in Spanish... and then I think some version of 'For he's a jolly good fellow' in a language I don't recognise. By this stage everyone is giggling. It's contagious!

Our main meals arrive. Mine is a slow cooked lamb shank on a bed of mash and Eddie has steak with vegetables. I try in vein several times to cut off sections of meat, but my fork keeps landing clumsily on bare sections of the plate. The smell is devine and it's tortuous not being able to get any of it into my mouth. I decide to abandon my cutlery altogether. 

Their website was right! "When you eat without sight, food takes on a culinary flare." We both really enjoyed our meals (once we finally figured out where they were). The flavours were sharp and distinctive, textures more apparent and the warmth of each mouthful seemed to linger.

When we reenter the reception area our eyes take a moment to adjust. We wipe food off each others faces, collect our things and walk out into the cool night air, full of delicious food and intrigue.