Now that’s what you call a big tractor


G and I went out with my girlfriend Cath for dinner on Friday night, being our last weekend in Australia it was a feast of Last Supper proportions. After we’d rolled home I beached myself on the couch in a semi comatose state and glanced down at my phone. I’d had over 100 notifications on the Facebook page for the blog which seemed like a lot for a Friday night.

“I wish I understood more about how this all works, the Facebook page has over 100 new likes and I have no idea why there’s been such an influx in one day.”

G and Cath tried to feign an interest.

“Doesn’t it tell you where they came from? How they found you?”

“Nope, I can just see their faces, where they’re living, that’s it.”

I wanted more of a formal introduction, maybe a little note from Facebook “Hi Kirsty this is Frances, she used to live in Beirut but now she’s in Moscow. Frances has a friend called Trina who is an Aussie based in Bangkok. Trina shared a post of yours and Frances saw it and thought she’d start following you. Frances’s favourite style of food is Vietnamese and her drink of choice is a chilled glass of bubbles, you’d really like her, you have the same ballet flats and she also grinds her teeth, isn’t that a coincidence?”

Alas no, there were no details on Frances. I clicked on her lovely face, thought about sending her a message to say thanks for popping by but then realized Frances may think I’m a bit of a stalker.  I do that with just about every Facebook “liker” hover of their face, think about asking them where their gorgeous cover photo was taken and then realize I sound a little bit creepy. “Hey, where are you standing in that photo with the mountains behind you?” Would it freak you out if I sent you a message like that?

When I returned to Doha yesterday I got to work on getting back to the blog. The lovely Kelly Exeter had moved the blog from Blogger to WordPress over the holiday and I’m still finding my way. I went back to my old Blogspot address to see if I could work a few things out and noticed there had been an inordinate amount of traffic from Mamamia – and then it all made sense. A post about Expat Women had somehow began circulating again, this one here, at last count had been shared on Facebook about 22,000 times in past week.

I know that for some 22,000 isn’t really a very big number, but for a girl who grew up in a town of 7,500, it’s a shedload. It’s like my town, the town next door and two towns on from that. It’s like pageant night or the Riverland Dingy Derby and the Field and Gadget Days combined!

Now, if we were at the Riverland Field and Gadget Days I could just wander over to you and strike up a chat. I could express my love for your ballet flats, comment on the size of tractor you happened to be standing near “now THAT’S what you call a big tractor” I might say, but I’m feel like a weirdo if I comment on your cover photo on Facebook – what a strange world we live in.

Can you see where I’m going with this? Yep, I’m about to come over and stand next to you by the grain harvester. Would you indulge me? Can I entice you to leave a comment?

Where are you? What brought you here? Have you been here for ages or have you just arrived? If I was to be really hospitable, what would I have on the table? Preferred food? Drink of choice? If you could go anywhere on a holiday right now where would you go? I think I’d go on a safari in Africa, or maybe Italy, Cinque Terre.

Come and say hi, before I come and stalk you. 🙂

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