The Golden Orbs

“Once upon a long, long time ago

there was a jellyfish with a big hairy belly button.

He went to the shopping mall to have a pedicure

There he met a policeman and he said:

nice underwear, very fetching!

Mmmm...he murmured, licking his lips,

"I can't believe this is happening to me."

But in fact, it really was. And the world agreed.”

I cannot claim that the little story above is mine except for two lines. Let me introduce you to my co-creators, the Golden Orbs:

Junko, reflexologist, energetic cooking aficionado and soon to become expert, a massage therapist and healer in various modalities - dances to her own rhythms and time

Ananda, film-maker, spiritual seeker, lives on a house boat, Junko’s partner, meticulous and punctual

Andrew, river conservationist, softly spoken, gentle in nature - a contemplative

Parul, town planner, bubbly and full of energy with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes

Joel, committed high school geography teacher looking for a career change in goat and walnut farming, avid traveller and photographer, Parul’s partner in mischief

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I had no idea what I was in for.  I had met Parul more than a year ago in London at Junko’s.  Junko and I went to the same primary school in Tokyo and had reignited a friendship in the last ten years.  As I was making plans earlier this year to head to the UK again, Junko sent me an email inviting me to join her, Parul and her friends for a week in a cabin in Norway.  I had never been to Norway and a cabin on an island sounded idyllic.  It seemed a long way away and a good idea.

As the weeks passed and on more than one occasion I started to wonder if a week in a cabin in a remote area of Norway with people I didn’t really know was such a good idea. I like my own company,  I crave for peace and quiet and I am not a group person.  

I then received another email from Junko saying she had bought the flights.  It looked like I was now committed and I learned that there would be at least 6 of us, perhaps more.  The cabin could house ten.  I didn’t know there would only be one bathroom.

By the time my Norway trip came around, I had spent ten days in Ireland, five weeks in London spinning my wheels trying to find a place to live, and a week in Galicia in Spain at the time of the Santiago train crash.   So in spite of my trepidation about my fellow cabin crew I was ready for the holiday - with regular meals, not on Spanish time.

Junko, Ananda and I flew in to Stavanger where we were picked up by Parul.  Stavanger is an oil city, the airport full of cars where people had left their them to commute to the offshore oil rigs.  The air was cool and fresh and I was greeted by a sense of space.    The streets were wide with little traffic, the houses were clean, neat and tidy and lakes dotted the landscape.  I could breathe.

We arrived at Parul’s where we were greeted by her parents and the remainder of our crew, Andrew and Joel.  As we gathered around mango lassi in a Norwegian style conservatory, Parul’s father enlightened us on the wisdom of Krisha Murti and what the mind was not.  Parul’s mother fed us dhal, saffron rice, raita and salad to sustain us on our journey to Korshamn, a small island off the south coast of Norway.  

We packed the stationwagon full with our luggage and supplies of food that had been brought from London and sourced from Parul’s kitchen.  We had been warned that Norway would be expensive - we discovered that red peppers were about $5 (AUD) dollars each.   Stuffed red peppers were not going to be on the menu.    

We, barring Andrew, got in the car to start what should have been a two to three hour journey.  Andrew was going by coach as we couldn't all fit in the car.    

Five and a half hours later, admittedly with some tourist stops, we finally arrived on a tiny island accessible only by one road that led from the bridge connecting to the mainland.  

It was nearly 10 pm.  It was still light but only just.  We arrived at what we thought was our cabin - the instructions had been to look for a brown house with white blinds.  We found one and it looked delightful -  right on the water with a private jetty, a beautiful garden, a BBQ, a living room that opened out onto a large deck and the interior through the window looked nicely furnished.  But as hard as we looked, we couldn’t find the key.  It was not under the grill, where it was meant to be.  Andrew would soon be arriving and we had to pick him up, 15 km back on the road we had come.  

Joel offered to look further up the road to see if there were any other brown houses with white blinds.  He returned saying that there was  one more house but it didn’t look all that inviting so it couldn’t be the right one.  This beautiful house on the water had to be ours!

But as more time passed, it was quickly getting darker and colder and a slight panic set in.  We couldn’t get into our house.  Andrew needed to be picked up and ‘dinner time’ had long gone and in fact it was soon time for bed according to my watch.  

In the meantime, Ananda had decided to check the uninviting house once more.  To our relief and dismay, he found the key.

This was to become the start of what turned out to be a super week, with already the various personalities emerging.  

A week that consisted of gingerly swims amongst massive jellyfish,

(Photo doesn't do justice to the size of the jellyfish)

adventures with ticks (the victims - the two lovebirds), 

Tick Haven

canoe trips involving nude swimming by some, boating expeditions where fish could be caught in a matter of minutes, 

a much anticipated beer on the pier that unfortunately didn’t eventuate (the pub had closed), 

hand made sushi rolls and fresh sashimi, beautifully filleted by Ananda, 

beetroot veggie burger fights where Parul and Joel’s faces  were nicely covered in pink gunk, 

hikes up sheep trails in thick gorse bush, a sound and light show where thunder and lightning lit up the Norwegian night, and belly laughs that went all night as we spun tales to amuse ourselves with perhaps the unconscious desire to milk all the fun and joy that could be had out of each day.

By the end of the week, we had come to be known as the Golden Orbs, which originally had been used as a description for a particular effect in a photograph, which quickly got bandied around to refer to all manner of things, more often than not with a hint of the naughty, including our good selves.

The End

......and another by the Golden Orbs......

In a moment of unguarded pessimism he removed his long-johns and offered his body to the majestic amoeba displaying their beautiful colours under the gentle ocean waves. They were gentle  and kind and life was wonderful. Then something bizarre happened. BANG! A loud noise  and suddenly in a cloud of stale smoke there appeared a scrawny man holding 2 canoes and a large  potato cake around his neck which he began eating until he stopped because  he was so guilty that no one else was interested in the jellyfish. He wanted to make them feel happier.