Go! Smell the Flowers

One Journey, Many Discoveries

By Jim Wheat, Emma Wheat

John Hunt Publishing Ltd.

Copyright © 2012 Jim and Emma Wheat
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-78099-690-5

Contents

Acknowledgements…………………………………………………..viiiForeword………………………………………………………….1How to use this book……………………………………………….3Prologue………………………………………………………….4Chapter 1 All that Glitters…………………………………………11Chapter 2 Wine and Braai……………………………………………39Chapter 3 Flowers and Family………………………………………..78Chapter 4 Cafes and Coffees…………………………………………96Chapter 5 From Shampoo to Shaman…………………………………….121Chapter 6 Peruvian Proposal…………………………………………150Chapter 7 Fires and Festivities……………………………………..188Chapter 8 Thai-ing the Knot…………………………………………215Epilogue part I……………………………………………………243Jim’s Epilogue Part II……………………………………………..252Emma’s Epilogue Part II…………………………………………….262

Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

All that glitters

Emma

This is the life, or is it?

‘All that is gold does not glitter; not all those that wander arelost,’

JRR Tolkein

“More Champagne Madam?”

This was the life. This is why I had come to Dubai. Glitteringparties, sparkling dresses, handsome men in their dinner jackets,uniformed waiters wearing spotless white gloves delivering anendless supply of champagne in sparkling crystal. Hmm …

I don’t think so.

I had just spent five months in my second job since leavingthe British Embassy, this time as director of sales and marketingfor the Dubai office of a UK-based company. My role was to setup and launch a branch of the company that marketed a range ofluxury goods, including cars and jewellery. This meant that I hadto meet and mingle with many of the ‘top’ people in Dubai; thechief executives, the Sheikhs, dignitaries and decision makers.

The party invitations flowed as freely as the champagne.Finally I was beginning to sample the other side of life in Dubai.There were parties at Dubai’s seven star hotel, The Burj Al Arab;launches of new companies and brands, with British royalty anda handful of local celebrities present too. There were luxury carsas giveaways and guests wearing bespoke jewellery to die for. Itwas a far cry from the life of a teacher that I had experiencedwhen I arrived.

It was fantastic to start with, don’t get me wrong, but after awhile, the shiny veneer became increasingly tarnished. When Ilooked closely at what lay beneath, it could be shallow, boringand in some cases, plain unpleasant. In fact, after ten years it hadbecome more and more difficult to hide my complete disinterestin the high life after all – and the people living it.

All the same, I was enjoying a lifestyle that I would not be ableto afford in the UK; manicures, pedicures, waxing, hair appointments,coffee and my ironing done for me – all had become partof my normal everyday life and I felt that I was changing into aperson that I didn’t recognise. I was torn. Was I the same personthat had once dreamt of owning dogs, horses and an open log fireto sit by? Was this new life the life I really wanted?

Jim

Reality check

‘Ours is a world where people don’t know what they wantand they are willing to go through hell to get it.’Don marquis

“Nice one, Jim,” said Paul as my ball rolled with a gentle plopinto the eighteenth hole. “Not enough to win the game, theGuinness is on you back at the Club House.”

“Whatever you say, Boss.” I replied shaking his hand throughgritted teeth. I hated losing at golf and never let the boss win if Icould help it.

We were on the smooth green turf of the Nad Al Sheba golfcourse and I had been in Dubai for almost three years.

This was no ordinary golf course; not only did it offer floodlitgolf until midnight it also played host to the world’s richesthorserace – the Dubai World Cup. Big occasions like these teasedme with buffets that confirmed the world really was my oyster,lobster and king-sized prawn. Shared hangovers and topping upthe next day was the currency of expatriates and one I was happyto trade with. And yet for some reason, here I was, using the clubas my solace for feeling lonely and empty.

My life in Dubai just wasn’t sitting right. Whenever I pressedthe pause button and allowed myself a scrap of quiet time it feltuncomfortable. I experienced immense feelings of isolation, guiltand greed like never before. My day-to-day life saw me sittingbehind a lap top, locked up in a head office all day. Was this justificationfor my so-called ‘higher’ education? Not only had themarketing spend and sales results increased during my tenurebut so had my waistline and blood pressure. I’d shot up from 90to almost 100 kilos and my waist had gone from 34 to 38 inches.I had suddenly become known as ‘Big Jim’, but for all the wrongreasons.

I was fed up of using the last notch on my belt and despite thehairdryer of heat that hit me every time I got out of the 4×4 afterwork, returning to my flat to change before jumping into myroof-top pool still made it hard to feel refreshed. The combinationof sauna, cold shower and pool even stopped doing thetrick as I failed to settle after work and relax to enjoy my privilegedsurroundings, maintained so carefully by the facelessIndian workers that I had begun to call by name.

“Good morning Meester Jim,” they would beam as I floppedinto my pool before or after a hard day of emailing.

Sometimes I’d manage a grunt, and to go as far as lookingthem in the eye. As we began to exchange smiles, it got methinking. Where did these guys come from, when did they haveholidays? What did they eat? What did they earn? Their meagrereality provided me with some form of a benchmark whilst I wasbusy pitying my privileged existence. How did they feel beingbarely paid, largely ignored and probably taken for granted?What about the guy who filled my jeep with petrol? The poolcleaner? The countless subservient security guards who referredto me as ‘Sir’? What had I done to deserve this accolade from astranger?

These were the much ignored foot soldiers of Dubai whomade the place work as they crouched down in their overalls inthe midday sun or greeted everyone with a smile inside the air-conditionedrestaurants. Thanks to all the so called self-helpbooks I read by gurus like Phil McGraw, Tom Peters and DeepakChopra I now realise that all that was happening was a bout ofintrospection. They call it ‘self-discovery’ but at the time it feltlike downright misery. I was sick and tired of returning ‘home’ tomy bachelor flat after another hard day of typing and shouting asarcastic ‘Hi, honey I’m home,’ or a ‘Home honey, I’m high,’ outto the imaginary life partner who was waiting for me at thedining room table with a hug, a glass of red wine and ahomemade lasagne.

GO! Read

The money or your life, John Clarke

Siddartha, Herman Hesse

Reimagine, Tom Peters

Occasionally, I’d return to the flat, polish off a bottle of wine andput my sorry self to bed. I stopped watching over-rated TVprogrammes opting instead to read more. I replayed films likeGladiator, empathising with Maximus as he is ordered to unveilhimself. Had this been me in the twenty-first century, caught inmy moment of glory, the scene might have gone something likethis:

“My name is James William Wheat, commander of theMarketing Department, general of construction chemicals,loyal servant to the true emperor, my computer keyboard.”

GO! Think:

Learn to enjoy your own company. If you cannot standspending time with yourself, how can you expect anyone elseto want to be around you?

When did you last allow yourself some quiet time?

So there I was, with everything that I thought I’d wanted and yetwas still deeply unhappy. I had my health and material possessions.I was able to throw myself at the wondrous Dubai lifestylewhile managing to stash some tax-free cash away from time totime. Mum always called this my Rainy Day Fund and maybe Iwas missing the rain after all. This spare cash only added to myfeelings of selfishness, guilt, greed and isolation. Welcome to’success’. What was my problem?

“Can you call a lady called Emma from this exhibitioncompany, Jim?’ Paul asked me one day in March. “I expect she’llbe after some form of sponsorship.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bring it on. You don’t expect me to fall for thatold ploy do you? They send in the blonde and I sign on thedotted line!”

I called her. She came into the office, bringing with her an airof such grace and femininity that it was as if the room weresuddenly filled with flowers. Sitting on the opposite side of myhuge desk, Emma began to describe the event she was planningfor the upper echelons of the construction industry.

Emma, whom I discovered came from Devon, neededsponsorship. She was gorgeous. I signed.

Emma

‘We all have big changes in our lives that are more or lessa second chance’

Harrison Ford

Jim and I had a soft launch to our relationship.

We played some golf, he showed off his cooking skills and wetook a trip out into the desert, all of which were male domainsand designed to impress – and I was impressed. But I was thenfaced with having to do something in return – something thatwould have an impact on a man of such sporting prowess as Jim.

My opportunity arrived by chance about a week later, when Ihad some spare tickets to a work-related event: beach polo. It wasglitzy and glamorous yet sporty, with a few stars thrown in forgood measure and a boozy corporate lunch by the sea. It was arather stark contrast to the testosterone-riddled rugby pitchesand the ensuing pints of beer Jim was used to. My event had therequisite manly deeds and alcohol, but its handling was morerefined. I even convinced myself he was just a potential client too.I was in heaven that day. Sunshine, glamour, horses and ahandsome man whose full attention, somehow, I commanded allafternoon.

I found myself spending most of the afternoon gazing in Jim’sdirection. Once I realised that my attention was taken away fromthe horses and the men in white jodhpurs (which are two of mypassions in life) I realised that Jim was not one to let go of in ahurry. If anything could drag my attention away from thighs andthoroughbreds, it had to be important. This realisation wasenough to make me start looking at things a little differently.

GO! Think:

When something can’t help but command your focus, it maybe time to pay attention.

What commands your focus?

Thankfully, my attempts at trying to impress Jim hadworked and that evening he called me to set an ‘official’ datefor Valentine’s Day. What better day to go public with ourrelationship?

Jim

One Gin & Tonic before Emma arrived wouldn’t hurt, helpeddown with a handful of cashew nuts. It’s the first date and shewas bound to be a few minutes late. It would give me somecompany while I waited at the bar.

Emma

To add more romance to the evening, we had agreed to meet inthe bar like semi strangers before going up to the restaurant. Inmy mind I had been playing the scene like an old black andwhite movie, with me as Audrey Hepburn standing in thedoorway … romantic music playing … she is looking arounduncertainly for the man of her dreams. Their eyes lock … shewalks through a crowded bar … all the men in the bar stop tofollow her across the room until she locks into a passionateembrace with her man … climax of music and cut.

In reality, the traffic was gridlocked and my phone was out ofbattery. The question was would he wait for me?

Jim

Having stared aimlessly into my second Tanquerey and tonic Ibegan to wonder if she was going to show. Half an hour late wasbeyond first date late. Bloody Valentine’s day. Nice cashew nuts.

Emma

Forty minutes later, (which I am not sure counts as ‘fashionably’late) I was overjoyed to see Jim sitting patiently in a seat by thebar, looking gorgeous in a red shirt. I was so relieved that he hadnot given up and left, that the dignified film star entrance wasforgotten as I rather unceremoniously flung myself into his armsbemoaning the traffic.

Jim

It was definitely worth the wait.

I had waited my whole life to experience the evening that weshared.

Emma

It was a wonderful evening on which to start our relationship.Now that we had admitted to ourselves and anyone who wasinterested – and many who weren’t – that we were officially acouple, our relationship started to develop very quickly and wesoon became constant companions.

Jim accompanied me devotedly to my work functions, eachone became bigger and better than the last. The extravagance ofit all made my head spin and my stomach churn. With Jim at myside, it was as if we began to share the same pair of eyes andtogether, as the rose-tinted lenses fell away, we both began to seethe shallowness of Dubai society.

Jim

Clarity with Charity

‘Charity: A thing that begins away from home, and usuallystays there.’

– Elbert Hubbard

Emma and I found it perfectly natural to share our thoughts,experiences and dreams as we compared corporate notes thatwere in essence very similar. I talked about how ‘one day’ Iwould resign to travel and write a book. This gave us a sense ofperspective, it made our toils more worthwhile and whilst I wasfantasising, Emma was dreaming of re-visiting South Africa andthe South of France having spent memorable holidays where shehad adored the simplicity and general way of life.

Another effective way I found that helped me to keep a senseof perspective was my obsession with physically pushing myself.The only exercise I took at work was walking up the stairs to myoffice, the odd pit stop for liquids in and out, and back down thestairs to leave again. It was hardly climbing Mount Everestalthough I did feel like I was hanging onto the corporatemountainside waiting for my pay cheque to land at the end ofevery month. I set myself sponsored challenges to do in my sparetime to raise money for various local charities whilst keeping fitand keeping my feelings of guilt for my own ill-gotten wealth atbay. I’d already started planning more travel for that year andwas pencilled in to do a charity trek with my friends at theDubai-based charity, Gulf 4 Good, to discover the Machu Picchusite in Peru.

Thanks to the various charity challenges I had already cycledfrom Bangkok to Cambodia, climbed Mount Kilimanjaro andseen the wonders of the Serengeti. I know for a fact that theparticipants got as much out of it as the recipients of ourdonations. The more Gulf 4 Good trips I completed, the more Iquestioned why I was spending so much of my time in the officelike a caged lion. Field sales had been my Serengeti and I wasmissing the real world Savannah.

These travel outlets were a brilliant way to get me out of theDubai bubble. They kept me occupied and allowed me to spendless time in my empty, lonely, soulless flat. It may have been atrendy apartment for wannabes, with all mod-cons, minimalistfurniture and a designer loo-roll holder, but before Emma I didnot even have the luxury of a mouse or cockroach for company.So much for the ‘high life’.

The final nail in the ‘woe is me’ coffin came when I flew to SriLanka in March 2005 to fly the corporate flag during someTsunami relief work with the Japanese arm of the charity, Savethe Children. I’d overheard in the office that my colleague,Graham, was due to visit the area on behalf of our Japaneseoperation to ensure that the $300,000 raised by the companythrough various fundraising initiatives was being put to properuse. I managed to convince the company to allow me to go withhim to document our unsung work there after the devastationthat had hit the island three months earlier.

GO! Think

Have you ever considered charity work? What local charitywould you donate your time to? Do you think the charityreally benefits or does it get swallowed up in administration?

I met Graham in the Hilton in Colombo, and we wasted no timein driving 100 miles along the south-east coast to the floodplainsof Matara that were to benefit from some of the money. As wepassed along the once idyllic coastline looking out at theseemingly calm ocean, we witnessed the scenes of destructionwith open-mouthed disbelief. Whole communities, not justhouses, had been pulled up from the roots of their foundationsleaving nothing but destruction. The picture of the mangledwreckage of an eight-carriage commuter train will be with meforever.

Full of life until the wave struck and now skewed over thebattered track it was hard to get my head around the enormity ofwhat had happened; Imagine travelling on a train, reading oneminute, only to be wiped clean out the next. The community haddecided to leave the wreckage as it was, to honour the thousandpeople who had been annihilated as the tsunami stopped thetrain in its tracks. All that remained were bouquets of flowers,scribbled notes and the beginnings of rust.

What I had seen got me to thinking: I was full of life now, butfor how long? When was my tidal wave going to hit?

Coming face to face with the locals, we met some very humblepeople who had lost not only all of their possessions but theirfamily members too in – one fell swoop. They needed a leg-up torebuild their lives. Our company had donated 25 concrete-blockmaking machines together with 500 sewing machines, which leftus with no doubt that our donation would at least make a smalldifference. We hoped to give these people the chance of earninga living again.

GO! Think

Why wait for the tidal wave to land? What changes can youmake now in your life?

Back to my reality

‘My problem lies in reconciling my gross habits with mynet income.’

-Errol Flynn

On the business class flight home later that day I felt acutelyuneasy. It just didn’t seem right that the cost of my flight alonecould have watered, fed and clothed a dozen of the families I hadjust seen for many months. Despite my feelings I soonsuccumbed once again to the lure of my privileged lifestyle andrather than stay and do something about the devastation I hadseen, I boarded the plane.

That evening contrasted starkly with what I’d just witnessedas I accompanied Emma to a glitzy ball at one of Dubai’s over thetop 5 star hotels. In a matter of hours I had ricocheted from oneguilt trip to another. The 250 or so exclusive guests all sippedchampagne before sitting down to be entertained with a six-coursemeal and a couple of accomplished waiters-cum-operasingers. My fake smile was at its best as I failed to erase thescenes in Sri Lanka from my mind. Another glass of champagneseemed to help placate me and suitably numbed the memory ofwhat I had just left behind. This was life with all its variety andI convinced myself that I was a lucky guy to have been able toexperience such contrasts in the same day.

After this experience I found myself in more turmoil thanever. Every time I found myself settling back into Dubai-life andits luxury I would shake myself firmly.

The next day I started to wonder what mark I could make onthe world, thinking perhaps irrationally that were I to die, thenall the people I now knew would only bother to pay their lastrespects because of the eat-all-you-can curry on offer at the post-burialbuffet. I didn’t want it to be this way. I found myself awakein the early hours of the morning writing my epitaph as theysuggest in self-help books, of which I was becoming so fond.
(Continues…)Excerpted from Go! Smell the Flowers by Jim Wheat. Copyright © 2012 by Jim and Emma Wheat. Excerpted by permission of John Hunt Publishing Ltd..
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