ANTARCTICA IS GOOD FOR THE SOUL! ITS OFFICIAL

One Ocean Expeditions Are Officially Good For The Soul

Leading travel writer, journalist and broadcaster Sarah Tucker gets emotional about the Antarctica Cruise in “The A to Zen of Travel”

Leading small ship Polar expedition cruise company, One Ocean Expeditions, has been recognised for providing life changing travel experiences that are good for the soul by travel writer and broadcaster Sarah Tucker. Featuring the Antarctica Cruise in her latest book ‘The A to Zen of Travel’, Sarah took this voyage as part of her book research, concluding that journeys like this one help rid people of emotional baggage such as heart ache, loneliness, anger issues and lack of focus.

Travelling to Antarctica with her fifteen year old son Tom last Christmas, the prolific travel writer added the experience to her latest book as a perfect example of how and why specific journeys work on a much deeper level than merely tick boxing a destination.

"I travelled with One Ocean Expeditions and headed first to Buenos Aires, which is an incredibly sexy and vibrant city, one of the most interesting in the world and then onto Patagonia, and Ushuaia.” Explains Sarah Tucker. “We had expected a trip of a life time, which many of those on board did, but nothing prepares you for something like this, not even David Attenborough.”

One Ocean Expeditions Christmas in Antarctica expedition is a specialty departure, which features a tailor-made family adventure for those parents or grandparents travelling with children and young adults. Exploring and sharing adventures along the Antarctic Peninsula, creating memories to last a lifetime, One Ocean Expeditions staff lead the way with interactive educational experiences, on-board programming and onshore guided excursions, as well as a unique approach with child led photography.

“What I noticed on board was that many people were becoming very emotional about the experience, telling me how 'healing' the experience was,” adds Sarah. “The crew were not only there to show them the ropes as far as getting on and off board was concerned, but to also talk about how the place made them feel and think about their now lives and life experiences.  It was a very intense experience."

"Antarctica is often called the seventh continent and is the last one people
who have travelled extensively seem to feel they must 'do'”, concludes Sarah, “but from an emotional perspective it should be one of the first. Travelling via Buenos Aires and Ushuaia adds to the experience.  A trip to Antarctica is the yoga of travel. It clears the mind and calms the spirit.  Humbling and empowering at the same time, you don't feel you are following in the footsteps of great explorers. You are the great explorer!"

One Ocean Expeditions offer a range of Antarctic cruises from October through to March, including the voyage that Sarah Tucker and her son went on, the 8-night ‘Christmas in Antarctica’ departure, which sails from Ushuaia, Argentina to the Antarctic Peninsula on 20 December 2014.  Prices start from US$7395 per person based on twin share, from US$5595pp for triple share and from US$9495pp in a One Ocean Suite. The price includes all meals and accommodation plus zodiac excursions and landings, activities for children and young adults, overnight camping in Antarctica, ship transfers and foul weather gear.  Price excludes flights UK – Ushuaia. Dates: 20 – 28 December 2014, (Ushuaia/Ushuaia).

The book, which was written whilst Sarah studied psychology, includes a foreword by notable psychologist and author, Professor Edward de Bono. Having studied Sarah’s work, Professor de Bono commented, “"You will never choose your holidays the same way again. This is a remarkable, innovative book that will not only change the way you travel but change the way you think about yourself."

About One Ocean Expeditions

One Ocean Expeditions is managed by one of the most seasoned teams in the expedition cruise business. Known for their focus on delivering high quality, superior luxury adventure travel, One Ocean Expeditions is poised to set a new standard in the expedition cruise industry.  www.oneoceanexpeditions.com.

The A to Zen of Travel is available from Waterstones, all good book shops and Amazon. For further information contact Sarah Tucker on 07990946135.

For further information on One Ocean Expeditions please contact Debra Taylor on debra@toucanmoon.com, tel: 01491 613424 or 07956 852197

BREAKING UP IS EASY TO DO..ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS SAY YES

Scotland will say yes. If they say no, its a fix. Psychologically its more positive to say yes, so whoever chose for staying together to be a 'no' should be shot.  Someone likened it to a divorce.  Even if they say 'no' the way this has been handled by the media as well as the politicians has been appalling.  Everyone has looked bad.  The Scottish have looked like thugs on TV, the journalists have looked antagonistic and lacking in intelligence and the politicians have looked desperate and smug.    We have a beautiful country, its just being knowingly undersold.

And why have I gone all dewy eyed about the UK?

I took psychology exam today and was with a TV company this afternoon.  I had time to walk around Westminster today for an hour, which I haven't done for ages.  Warm day, sunshine, acted like a tourist visiting the souvenir shop of Westminster Abbey (didn't go in to the Abbey itself £18!!). And sat on the grass between meetings/exams.  (love taking exams, hate revising for them).  What a beautiful city we have.  What a glorious city. Incredible architecture. Absolutely wonderful. I'm not sure if its the best in the world, but it is utterly fascinating.  Yes there are downsides.   If you are bored of London you need to get a life.   If you can't afford London, that is more understandable.   The rich are creating ghettos and they're not even English rich.   The traffic is appalling and we continue to treat cyclists like road kill.  

London still (just) allows diversity. It shouldn't be the privilege of the rich to live here. They do not make it a better place.   Just visit anywhere which the rich have made it their ghetto (Knightsbridge) and there's an unhealthy energy, as though they've brought their sick ruthless karma with them.  

And Boris -don't charge for the fireworks.  The 'wealthy' who live in London can cough up for the rest of us.  They have more than enough money to pay for 'administration and bouncers'. In fact I'm sure they can lend the New Years event some of their own.

LIMITLESS AND LUCY

Just watched the film Lucy with Tom.   Go see.  It makes you think.  Or makes you think about thinking. The process.   The film is basically about expanding the mind. Using the brain more efficiently and effectively - literally seeing through things, what you're sold and told, and being a free spirit and thinker.   Everything establishment doesn't want us to do.   The film is based on the premise we use only 10% of the brain.    Tom tells me its a myth we use only 10% of our brain. I don't know how he knows, but he says he knows.     I'm not sure who worked that out - the 10% but basically the film (Lucy) explodes the mathematical way we structure life.   As the protagonist (played by Scarlett Johanssen - the  'Lucy' of the film, says at one point 'the only thing we've learnt in a billion years is one plus one equals two and that's even wrong'.    It simplifies things of course, because it's Hollywood, it's only got an hour and twenty minutes to explain the meaning of life (which as one plus one doesn't equal two, I suppose isn't four and three quarters either).  It flushes the use of math down the toilet to explain things. Or anything of importance.

Mathematics is limiting and limited.  It structures and explains, but has become like a end in itself where it only existed to explain, function, be part of the journey to something more esoteric.   Which is sort of what Lucy is about.    Lucy played by Scarlett Johansen (obligatory gorgeous) is helpless victim (but bright - goes to Uni - has to study - its an American film so they've got to be pseudo PC although I think its lost on the X Factor/CBB/Great British Bake Off generation being fed mental trash.  Then due to Chinese/Taiwanese (never specified) drug baron, she carries drugs which expand her mind.   What does she do with it?   She realises her time is limited, its the only thing that makes us exist and that she wants to share what she knows before her cells choose to literally go their own way.    She does so, and puts her knowledge in a neat package so to speak, for universal good. (although she puts it into the hands of a man…..but that's Hollywood for you.  But it is Morgan Freeman, and as he's played God in the past, you've got the idea its in good hands..)  

Contrast this with Limitless - a film also focused on a mind expanding drug - albeit one you take one at a time - willingly.   A man takes it (obligatory gorgeous male actor forgotten name of) and uses it for, good sex, making money, learning languages so he can impress in restaurants, in bars, mainly women, to have good sex, creating power, creating fear, being politically powerful, making money.   Getting one over.   I suppose the moral to that is - give a woman power and she shares it, she uses a higher deeper wisdom, and realises true power is in sharing it, give it to a man, and despite having a bigger brain, he still only manages to have one thing on it - sex and keeping power to himself.

Of course this is just Hollywood's take on what men and women would do with incredible intelligence given the same 'pill' and opportunity.

and ps. Joan Rivers is dead.  What a summer.  Watching the TV from France over the summer amongst the birds, bees and butterflies, I watched Syria, Iraq, Ebola, Libya, Rotherham, hurricanes in the US, volcanoes in Iceland and a Baked Alaska in a tent somewhere in English suburbia, and the deaths of  Robin Williams (what a waste - that was over money, I'm sure), David Attenborough, Lauren Bacall, and now Joan Rivers - larger than life characters, power houses whether you liked them or not.  And Kim K gets Woman of the Year.  What for? Alliteration?    And Tony Blair gets philanthropist of the year. What utter utter bollocks.   He gives money that he's made from the banks that pay him millions to talk to them, which they've in turn taken from the populace (us).   He's still giving our money away and getting awarded for it.   When will the world wake up and realise all the Emperors of establishment, each and every establishment, past and present have no clothes on. What pill do we need to take?  Hope they give it just to the women.

BEST FRIEND DOES A BRADGELINA WHILE I BIMBLE AMONGST THE BLACKBERRIES

Last few days in France and I bimbled amongst the blackberries, walking slowly up the lane as the pink sun was setting, looking at the cows with their new born - (they have been productive this year) picking the berries, bottle of wine in my hand, on route to thanking the lovely man up the road who cut down loads of my trees.  He has a dog called Vicky and he is mid sixty, but wow, he knows how to use one of those cutters.   So now there are a lot of logs, and I'm able to see how the land lies.

I have been lugging logs all day up and down the hill in preparation for a bonfire, sowing wild flower seeds (well scattering them and hoping they will sprout wondrous colours and attract every pretty bee, bird and butterfly and not be eaten by the wild deer).

I'm trying to get some writing done. Its very difficult to think when I'm in France. Dreaming is easy, but thinking difficult.    Its a place for creativity - London, Richmond, with the edge and grit, even behind the pseudo civility of gentrified living - makes me write.   This place makes me dream.   In Richmond, I'm woken by trains and planes and the rubbish van saying 'the vehicle is reversing…' which I always thought said '…my veral is rehearsing.'  

In France,, the blue tit taps on the window and then flies off, the summer light ripples through the room and the crystals create colours flashing red, pink, purple, green, yellow all the colours prisms are supposed to create (but I've forgotten).    The church bells ring at seven and at twelve and at seven again.

My harvest from the garden is fine.   I have a huge bowl of hazelnuts, loads of walnuts and apples but my figs aren't very big.  I have twenty nine of them and they are not very big but I am told no one's figs are big this year.

The weather is wonderful because all the British have gone home so its going to be in the high twenties this week.    The last guests said lovely things about everything, including me, which made me feel all my efforts are worth while.   I now officially know how to make ovens shine.   I do not care I am able to do this, but like being able to bake a cake, rewire a plug, change a tyre, its good to know how to do, even though I have absolutely no interest in doing it again.

And my best friend got married on Saturday. Caroline did a Brad and Angelina and did it on the spur of the moment (well, not quite spur, Dan proposed last month (in France but not here)) and she kept it a secret for a month.   Very small affair in Southwold at The Swan Inn which is lovely (have been there with the ex) she rode a Shire horse afterwards down the High Street, as one does, and everyone cheered, and then went to the beach and everyone got their feet wet.   The sun shone all weekend.

Everything was perfect. On the Saturday she was married, on the Sunday she was fifty and on the Monday she got a cat.   Perfect.   No stress about hen party, who is going to be the bridesmaid, no long speeches, no bouquet throwing.   I cried when she told me on the phone because she deserves this happiness and this man, and the cat (forgotten his name but she told me).   Blackberries and bimbling and best friend blissfully happy.   Nice way to end the summer.  (but wish I'd been there..)

GARDEN LEAVE

Lady Chatterly had it all.  She had a gardener.   This was the most important thing.   It doesn't matter about the rest, but she had a good gardener.   In fact I'm not sure if her gardener was any good (in the garden that is) as everyone was focusing on what happened in the potting shed, but I wonder if she was seducing him so he would be the one to sort out her brambles and cut down her trees. And I'm not talking metaphorically although not sure what the metaphor would relate to.      The garden is taking shape, the sun is shining, moles are being blown up, slugs are being sliced and I'm eating my way through a crop of blackberries and apples.  There will be a huge bonfire and my guests are leaving and I don't want them to. I love them. They are lovely. They are normal. I don't want them to go.     I am off to the market this morning. The one in Villefranche which sells everything and anything.    I will eat warm fresh figs and buy honey.   I wonder if it sells gardeners and really nice guests. I need three of them, for a week, probably two.    The rest I can do myself.

BLIP AND BACK TO HEAVEN AGAIN

Sitting outside house and its stunning.    Weather wonderful.   At last.   How did the emotional abuse blog find its way into my French romance?   Will delete at some stage, or shorten as although its true, doesn't really belong here.  Its the Silence of the Lambs in Disneyland which this place (this part of France) is.

The cows, pretty though they are, are going to be eaten, or milked to death. Even the little birds that land on my window ledge each morning (I now open the window as I got tired of the tapping at seven and now they just land, look, fly round the room a few times, resist the urge to poo and fly out again) are trapped and eaten by the locals.  

I have had my good friends Edward, Justine and Jayne come visit. They are staying in Toulouse.  Toulouse is a sexy city. Not as in Buenos A or Paris or Rome, but its got an edge to it. Its working and  with it.  I have been driving to collect and pick them up from the 'centre ville'.  

This has been an experience.   Its an hour and half drive there anyway (as long as I don't get behind tractors or caravans) .  I don't usually see Toulouse at all when I arrive or drop off at the airport as its carefully sign posted, although filing up with petrol is ridiculously complicated and just done to make the lives of those who have hire cars even more stressful than they need be.  There should be an Esso garage a mile outside in and out of the airport.  But no, you have to go round these little roads and then its card only, but sometimes there's a person there. And that's another thing.All the petrol stations here are now card only.   They don't even take cash.   Not even in rural France.

So back to Toulouse and centre ville, or Toulouse Centre as they intermittently sign post it.    They were staying at the Plaza Hotel, a central hotel in the 'Capitole'.  Easy to find?  Yes. Easy to get to? No. They have these bollard things which suddenly appear out of nowhere.  Its like one of those Hunger Games where if you don't drive quick enough a road would be blocked off.    So every time I dropped them off I had to find a different way to enter the maze.  Then there was the sign posting.    Centre Ville was there one moment and then disappeared for the next five minutes.   This led me into deepest Toulouse suburbia and a very kind lady who showed me the way out.   I arrived but it was stressful and when any one asks me how to get somewhere in Toulouse I will tell them to park in a car park and walk. I think that's why they do it.

I took the guys round Cordes, Najac and St Antonin yesterday. We ate at a wonderful restaurant in St Antonin over looking the river.    Le Carre des Gourmets.  It has a Michelin star and award winning Cassoulet,but go hungry.    It is wincingly romantic overlooking the river.    I walked round Cordes and there are so many pretty shops with pretty things in them.   Pretty bags and dresses and necklaces. I felt like a girl again. And there's a bead shop.  Eight years ago I invited a group of girls (my age but I'm calling them girls coz men call themselves 'boys' even when they're 70 odd). All very high powered, extremely bright, and I'd sorted a weekend of cultural activities as well as 'pool time'.   Did they want to do that?   Nope.   Pool, Hello magazine, and jelly sweets and when I took them to Cordes three hours in the bead shop where they made necklaces.    The bead shop disappeared the next year. Well ladies its back.

I absolutely loved that day - both with Edward et al, and the girls all those years ago.   I loved showing them around Cordes, walking the narrow cobbled streets, talking about the Cathars (did you know Catholic Church called them the Church of Satan) Bless them.   Of course they were nothing of the sort. Didn't believe in Church of any sort for one thing (thought it was all about money, power, creating fear and ignorance and disempowered rather than empowered). They were intellectuals, spiritualists.    They were mischievous and used intellect rather than emotion to out think the Catholics.    The Church said every village should have a church.  They made them build one in Cordes. So they did.   When the priests visited Cordes they noticed the church didn't have a door. 'You didn't say it needs a door'.

Build a door, they said.

So the Cathars built a door. Half way up the wall so no one could reach it.

The priests said build steps. So they did. In the end.   Of course as a Church it had to have gargoyles but rather than have the trusty old griffin (look up at the ones in that bastion of fear and damnation, the Cathedral in Albi), they had gargoyles with priests sticking their tongues out and doing moonies and other such.  I like these Cathars.    Very anti establishment.

They thought we were spirits and had the 'bodies' to tempt us away from ourselves, or being our true selves.  They also had some less appealing ideas but you have to read the book about them.    They weren't so much anti temptation of the flesh, more identifying why it happened in the first place.   In fact, the place I live La Salvatat des Carts mean salvation from the 'skin' (i.e. allegedly 'sins of the flesh').   So no sex here.  But couldn't it also mean salvation from the Cathars (and have been shortened) or salvation by the Cathars?   Any way, I mention this because I've had two people knock on my door this summer asking if I know where the Holy Grail is. Tempted to spread my arms wide and say 'da da, its me!' I realise the locals in Najac have been playing games again and sending earnest readers of Kate Mosse fine book Labyrinthe all over the countryside in search of the Holy Grail or some trace of where it could be. Admittedly gold coins believed to have been left by the Knights Templar were found in the chapel in the hamlet so I like to believe (and probably do knowing me) that its, whatever 'it' is in round here.  They could actually have come to the right place.

Any way, I'm digressing again, because its the sort of thing you do here.    The restaurant was lovely but I went into the bathroom and started to clean round the sink after washing my hands.   This is when I realised that for the first time I was on holiday.   I dropped the towel immediately.   I wasn't laying tarpaulin (I know a lot about tarpaulin now which I think is quite sad).  I wasn't painting a shutter, a railing, a door, a fountain, or cutting trees or going to Mr Bricolage rather than the pretty shop I love in Villefranche which sells expensive but wonderful table clothes and nonsense, or cleaning an oven, a shower room, or ironing.   Cleaniiness is not next to Godliness (another Catholic invention probably), it is next to loosing sense of the plot.   A diamond is a not a womans best friend, it is a dishwasher, whether that is a Bosch or someone else with two hands willing to get their hands dirty.  Men get married to get someone to clean after them or remain on good terms with their mothers for the same reason.   Women, you just get a career and a dishwasher.   Use your brain to find yourself not a man. They are meant to do the chasing anyway.     There is nothing 'cathartic' about cleaning.  It's not even like gardening (after doing it for six weeks I still say gardening is not a pleasure just a metaphor for life).   As for cleaning, we buy stuff we have to clean, then buy stuff we have to clean it with and its wasting time.    Time when we could be enjoying sins of the flesh and being free spirits. And I'm talking to women here.   Men know this already.

EMOTIONAL ABUSE LAW - WILL IT WORK - NO

In France, and its still Disneyland with a touch of Silence of the lambs thrown in occasionally as a curve ball.     I'm keeping in touch with the outside world via the BBC and from the birds and bees of Najac it looks, to be blunt, horrible. Perhaps we get use to so much nasty - but nasty becomes the norm.   Well, things have got very nasty. I know its easier to report bad news than good, but I know journalists who are even wondering whats going on at the moment.     Everyone appears so mean spirited, obtuse, weak, emotionally impotent.  Actually - not appears - they are.

So it was with interest I read how the courts will try to marshall emotional abuse.  This will be interesting to police mainly because those who are best at it, are also highly effective at hiding/masking their abusive behaviour. They choose one person to isolate and intimidate, they chip away gradually at their confidence over time, they undermine them amongst their friends and family and come across as extremely plausible and affable themselves. They are usually financially functional and on a material level may have reached a high level within business and commerce because of exactly that ruthless quality they use in work but are unable to switch off when they get home.  According to research undertaken by the Telegraph five years ago, the professions which tend to attract this type are the City and the Law, so it might follow a barrister might have every sympathy with the banker they are representing.   According to the research, they have no sense of value or morality.   Now that is disturbing.