16 May 2011
Fast Cars and Freedom
Let me start by saying I am always verrrrrrrrry hesitant to write something negative. Not only that but in my baby-Buddha-I'm-gonna-be-Zen-damn-it journey I try and embrace differences.
It's true that travel helps with tolerance. Big time. I have encountered more different, strange, wondrous, fascinating, bizarre and beautiful things leaving home than I could have imagined. So I am *so* with my way NOT being the only way.
But there's still one mystery that I am yet to understand. People, I need your help.
Women driving men.
I..don't..get..it!
True, the Australian man (the species I grew up with) is known more for the club-'em-and-drag-'em-back-to-the-cave approach (which can have it's own charm) and possibly could benefit from some lessons in the George Clooney School of Smooth but during my life in Oz and every visit back, I've yet to see this natural phenomena of the woman driving the man.
Being the enigma-wrapped-in-a-mystery that I am (i.e. a woman with full licence to change my mind on a whim) I am all for men embracing the metrosexual side and I'm absolutely passionate about equal rights for women. So why does this bother me? It feels incredibly shallow - like disliking someone for a pair of shoes or chewing gum. It's really bizarre yet ever since I stepped off the plane and saw the first Fiat hurtle by with a man squeezed in the passenger side and a woman driving and chatting away, it has grated on me.
Perhaps I just like my men to be the men of the club-'em-and-drag-'em type?! Maybe it's one of the many wonderful cultural differences that keeps life exciting and entertaining?! But if someone could shed some light on why it seems so prevalent here in the Land of Hope and Glory, I'm all ears!
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