A four hour drive from Mitchells Island to the Sydney CBD. In the rain. The last 30 minutes of which we were navigating one-way streets and bus/taxi lanes in the city, unable to negotiate a turn into the Jamison Street location of our lodging.
How one deals with the strangle of city traffic is the true test of whether one has polished one’s character enough not to snarl at one’s partner who is flummoxed by high-rise interference with the usually reliable TomTom and iPhone GPS.
Testing one’s spiritual capital with sharp words and raised voices, admittedly on both sides. Tension mounting and tone of voice becoming increasingly sarcastic. Until arriving somehow at the hotel, practically falling out of the driver’s seat from relief, and then needing to readjust one’s facial features to reflect friendliness and calm for the valet.
Is this why people go into cloisters to become enlightened – so they don’t have to handle road rage? Does the Dalai Lama even drive?