Third time's a Charm?

(I've had significant trouble posting this; I'm hoping this does make it now that I've removed all the pictures - I'll try again on those tonight.  As we speak it's only 6am - and we've been awake an hour already!)  ;)

So, this is Day 2 – officially – and I am pleased to announce that I have had absolutely zero jetlag!  * whew *  I had thought that I’d be dragging my butt I slept fabulously last night, woke up at a reasonable hour this morning, and am now completely switched over for the timing.  Brilliant.  Let’s hope it goes so smoothly going home. 

The weather was a little hit and miss today – a few minutes of rain, though mostly just cloudy skies and 16 degree weather.  It was warm enough that I was ok in capris and a tshirt but to see people here, you’d think it was 5 degrees – there were many big, bulky jackets. 

Yet again, I have confirmed that the search for food will be the bane of my existence here.  We have found that indoor dining is near-impossible to track down, never mind the fact that once you do find it, you tend to pay in excess of A$15 for breakfast (per person), not including coffee.  We did eventually find a little café off of Burke where we were able to have a yummy and only moderately over-priced breakfast, but the food dilemma has been ongoing, and somewhat stressful. Tomorrow we will seek out a grocery store as to hopefully not endure too much more of this ‘last resort’ dining. 

The other mini-crisis today was in regard to hotels.  It was looking rough; we’d booked accommodation for the first night, but because we are so prone to just picking up and going off on our own, it seemed ill-advised to book too far in advance. 

Of course, by this afternoon we didn’t know where we’d be sleeping, and the recent discovery of Melbourne being SO expensive suddenly was cramping our hotel-style.  We looked at a million different offerings, or at least it felt like that, but nothing was in the right price range for what we wanted.  The things that were in the right price range were … rather disappointing. 

So, that’s how we ended up in Geelong tonight, at a rather funny Comfort Inn.  This is a piece of retro chic heaven, complete with brown-plaid wool covers (that you find only after you peel off the vinyl-condom that covers it to make it look like an oversized ottoman) and wood paneling.  The detail of actual brick walling (making it look oddly like your room has been turned inside out) only adds to the 1970 flair.  Ever seen Psycho?  This room could actually be used to tape the remake (of the remake?) were it in America. 

Geelong itself is like something from 1970 America, which is actually quite enjoyable.  The main drag by our hotel is lined with stores that haven’t been renovated in the last thirty years, and that were entirely shut.  Sunday evenings are apparently not big business times here.  There’s a shop that sells religious paraphernalia, and an antiquated laundry. 

A few doors down from our hotel is also rather unique private establishment that I’m fairly certain is a brothel.  That would be entirely all too progressive for Geelong, though not surprising judging by the goings-on.  I will report any further discoveries of such sketchy places, should we uncover more in the next few days. 

Not much further down, we found dinner at a roadhouse/diner called Hog’s Breath.  The girls wore t-shirts that said ‘Hogstar’ and looked vaguely Hooteresque (it was recommended to our hotel proprietor, a rather stout man who smiled sweetly and gave us free internet) Food-wise, it was very yummy, and the most reasonably priced that we’ve encountered so far.  It also solved the debate as to how to order coffee in this country, as they detailed the difference between Long Black vs. Short Black, as well as flat white.  I’ve taken the necessary notes as to be well prepared tomorrow; this morning at breakfast, I was delivered three separate beverages before getting my coffee.  There may have been some confusion. 

So, as I type, we’ve turned on the ‘Logies’: the Australian version of the Emmys.  This is a very strange way to spend the night as the actors are far too eager to flog each other’s programs and talk about their vasectomies.  Seriously.  Well, plus they have K.D. Lang as an international celebrity to entertain their soap actors.  I’m so very confused by this. 

Jayne is working on our itinerary revisions for the next few days, and then we’re going to relax a bit.  We’re still not running at full capacity as of yet, but tomorrow we should be able to hit the ground running and get a fair bit accomplished.  We’re out to the ocean road to snap some pics and of course to explore a bit more.  

The internet in this questionable hotel is hit and miss - so right now I can't post pictures.  I have SOOOO many, but today just isn't the day.  

Welcome to Melbourne - We Want to eat your Brains!

I arrived this morning - bright and early, after what can only be described as the most incredible flight of all time.  Qantas really knows how to make you fall in love with their service, starting with the fact they always address you by your name, the seats are luxurious and to top it off, they feed you really yummy meals.  The gift bags full of goodies to make your trip easier don't hurt either.  

I have to admit, I didn't even notice the length of the flight; I barely had a chance to consider the time spent cooped up, thanks to all the entertainment they offer with their "Q on Demand" stations, and the feedings (they really were full on meals, complete with dessert, alcoholic beverages of your choosing, and some sort of yummy pastry that I really shouldn't have eaten!)  I did manage to get a fair bit of sleep too, which is rather uncommon for me.  I tend to have a 'performance' anxiety issue when it comes to sleeping in public places, but I managed a solid 6 hours none the less.  Fabulous. 

When I deplaned this morning, I felt completely awake (shocking) and ready to take on the world.  That feeling dissipated slightly when, come the time for the security check, there was a billboard posting saying that Channel 7 was filming their customs/security tv reality show.  Now, if you've ever seen it, you will understand when I say that I was horrified.  Those people - the ones they yank aside unceremoniously - are the most absurd and frustrating cases of deviants ever to try and smuggle fish/seeds/animals/poultry, etc into Australia.  So, granted, they're idiots, but ... I somehow had a moment's panic that I would be caught smuggling in a pack of breath mints and a mini-sized pack of M&M's, and then face the wrath of the smarmy Channel 7 bloke as security carried me off to fine me A$20,000 and throw me in jail.  Seriously.  Thankfully, that did not happen, but I held my breath through the entire experience and only released it when clear of the 'secure' area.  

Now, after so many hours sitting, I took it upon myself to haul my luggage for the walk to the hotel, and drop it off.  A half hour later (mostly walking in circles as there were numerous pedestrian closings due to construction), I managed to be free of my massive amount of stuff.  I didn't check in because Jayne won't be here until tonight, and feeling as great as I did, I saw no reason to - why pay for another day when we don't have to.  Mind you, I look like death (pictures to follow) but I did manage a quick wash and change while at the hotel lobby washroom.  From there I hauled my cookies BACK to the airport (avoiding the secure areas and potential hell from Channel 7) and grabbed the SkyBus to take the twenty minute ride from the airport back into Melbourne city center.

The SkyBus dropped me off at the Spencer Street Station, at which point I walked out and randomly turend myself in any direction, and set off.  Jayne doesn't arrive until almost 8pm, and I don't need to head back to the airport until 7-ish, so having an itinerary is pointless. 

I've been walking for hours - since 9 am, actually, and it's been a good adventure.  I have managed to cover a lot of ground, because it seems like the thing I should do when I have nothing stopping me, and no sense of where I want to be.  Museums, parks, bridges, and even now a public library... I'm making the most of my day! 

I spent a good chunk of my morning walking along the Yarra River, taking pictures and marveling at the mish-mash of architecture, as well as the random ways that people manage to yell things across the river.  At any given time, a conversation is being held, very loudly, at a very great distance.  For a while I sat on a bench and applied sunscreen - it's a balmy 18 degrees here, sunny and moderately windy, but lovely none-the-less - and listened to birds. 

After my park-lounging, I wandered back into civilization, and went in search of food.  This was much harder than I would have anticipated. 

Walking up Swanston, after leaving the cafe where I finally had lunch, what did I walk into?  Thousands of zombies.  Seriously.  They were everywhere, blood dripping from their mouths, detached limbs dragging behind them, and dozens of broken down, decrepit bodies being hauled up the street in true 'Night of the Living Dead' fashion.  It was enough to make Shannon proud! 

The chants were hard to miss... "What do we want?" and "Brains," were called out feverishly in the background.  "We want to eat your brains!"  Lovely!  Actually, it was quite the fun mob scene, and everywhere you looked there were people hanging off of each other, running into traffic to accost motorists, and just generally create chaos.  I spent a half hour walking and talking with the zombies, occasionally being accosted myself, and just generally enjoying the atmosphere. 

I did, however, miss the zombies versus humans yesterday.  I am saddened by this, but at least am pleased that I got to see the million zombie march. 

So far my general impression of Australia is that it is expensive, extremely difficult to order coffee, and so expansive that even with several days I'll never see a tenth of this city.  And I love it.  The people are kind, the coffee is incredible, and there are pastry and chocolate shops on nearly ever corner, giving me a good head start on picking up sweets for Jayne tonight. 

The expense of things - which I suppose is caused by everything having to be shipped so very far to get here - is understandable, but still hard to swallow.  I paid A$3 for a bottle of water that would cost me 69 cents Canadian.  I looked at books in a shop and there were none for less than A$20 (soft covers, no less!) and a very meager lunch (that was yummy, though nothing fancy) cost me almost A$15 when at home it would have probably cost closer to C$8. 

Still, regardless of the expense or of the zombies who are roaming free, I do love Melbourne.  So far it's been a lovely day, and this casual swing-in to the public library has given me a chance to rest my aching feet a while. 

Next up I'm headed to the park, and possibly for another coffee.  I might still be able to catch up with the zombies too, and find out what all the cool un-dead are doing tonight.  Who knows, maybe I'll want to participate after we get Jayne and Squidge to bed! 

Right now, I'm just so thankful to be alert and feeling well, and here.  Finally!  It still feels unreal! 

Ready, Set...

Go!

So the day before the great adventure has finally arrived, complete with last minute anxiety over a haircut that is ... possibly far too lesbian for my preferred heterosexual look... but all in all I think I'm well prepared.

Weighing the luggage, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I have 13 pounds to 'play' with in terms of souvenir shopping on my way back, and that will likely be flexible, since I'm very good at strategizing my carry-on luggage to smuggle all the extra bits that would otherwise herniate the backs of the luggage handlers.  

As I type I'm comfortably propped on a chair in Jo's livingroom, watching French hockey commentary, and all the while running through the list of things I need to remember to do tomorrow.  Oh yes, me and my lists.  There's no way to deny that I live for my lists.

The normal anxiety that was stressing me out earlier in the week has since passed, and a sense of peace has finally settled; there's something to be said for fantasizing about a life full of Xanax - what a miracle drug it is that without even taking any, I feel completely at peace!  This is one of those times when I definitely appreciate the placebo effect.

Today's huge anxiety, as previously eluded to, was the hair-cutting event of this evening.

Ever walk into a salon, expecting to see your favourite stylist, only to find out that the 95 pounds of tattooed goth has now moved on, presumably to a gig with the Suicide Girls?  That's pretty much what happened to me - and instead, the replacement was a strange cross between my grandmother, and a girl I used to know in school.

I had hesitations - I confess, I had many, many hesitations.  I liked my edgy goth tattooed freak who was so hysterically funny that I feared decapitation as her scissors navigated the area around my neck.  Alas, no bliss - she's gone, and I'm not about to go stalking after a random mystery stylist so, I settled into the chair and said the words I thought summed up my request:  'just cut it to shoulder length'...  She could do anything else she could ever want, but that was the length I wanted.  Bangs?  If she thought it best.  Layers?  Ok.  My only request was shoulder length...

I may not have adequately relayed my requests.

Instead, the result is strangely short hair that terrifies me.  I have NEVER had short hair - in fact, the shortest my hair had been (before this) was  - wait for it - shoulder length.  Give or take one bad accident in highschool when I'm convinced I took leave of my senses and did a harsh jaw-line cut, that is.

If this hair debacle is the worst that comes of my pre-trip jitters, than I figure all is well.  I have actually received a couple of compliments on it, and I can roll with it otherwise (I've considered a wig, extensions, and big-ass hats, all of which have both upsides and downs...)  I had initial angst that I might be looking far too Rosie O'Donnell like, but I have been reassured numerous times that I still have a ways to go before reaching that point - *whew*  I really was worried there...

My first flight leaves Ottawa tomorrow just before ten am.  I arrive in Australia Saturday morning just before eight am, and at every point in between I have a various adventures laid out.  My fabulous parents are venturing from London to come visit me in Toronto and we'll have lunch (and possibly find alternative hair-solutions...) and a visit before we all take off for parts unknown.  It's funny: only in my family can we routinely be on three different continents at once, and never think anything of it.

Love it.

So, it might be a few days before I get to swing back in, but certainly I will be looking forward to hearing from you, and updating very soon!

Adios!

Getting Ready...

I've been negligent with updating. As of late my view has been limited to the commute to and from work, as well as the windowless closet I call my lab. 

The good news is that the view is about to change - pretty drastically even! There are only four more days until I leave for Australia. These are, I'm convinced, the hardest; those days leading up to a trip are always anxiety filled.  
 

First there is that dreadful anxiety of what to pack so as to not overpack, and assessing the little things that can I buy there instead of taking it all with me. I hate obsessing over what to pack but for three and a half weeks on the road there's a definite pressure. 

My second great anxiety is in regard to what's left behind. My girls - my two darling cats - are being left to a friend to care for and as wonderful as they are I do stress that they'll grow anxious with limited human contact. At best, they would be described as neurotic, and at least a little bit needy.  Lucie is brilliant with them, but there's nothing quite like being at home to cuddle with them at night.  Stressful! 

It's funny because the journey is rarely what stresses me out. I'm not the kind to panic over delays or rough landings/take offs; morbid as it may seem, there's not much I can do to control the plane and it's happenings... I'd rather the voyage be flawless but I don't dwell on the process as long as I eventually touch down in my destination.   

It seems a little absurd to stress over the last few days. Ultimately I'm always ready on time and I rarely forget things of consequence (except for those few times where I have had to improvise pajamas - they're always my last thought and seem of such little consequence until you're sharing a room with other people!). I have on occasion forgotten small toiletries, and once - one harried time - my passport. Ops. Thankfully that was before the days of manditory on-hand 
passports; a very long time ago you could travel with a birth certificate and a driver's license. 

And yet, as the trip approaches, I once again find myself writing lists of things to pack, feverishly underlining the things I'm apt to forget: socks, pajamas, the travel guides, laptop adapter... I compare lists studiously and check to see what I've forgotten from sheet to sheet, and ammending as necessary.  A list is tucked in my purse, in my shoulder bag, as well as sticky-taped to my laptop lest I might lose one or six of the lists, and I virtually memorize it by this point after so many reviews.  

Tonight I'll iron the few things which I already am sure I don't need, empty my camera flash cards to be certain I have 11G of mobile memory (in addition to the 16G mobile flash stick I have should I need even more memory...)  and quite likely I'll go through my stash of teeny tiny toiletries to be certain that I have what I need to keep my case underweight (and with plenty of room for souvenirs)  

So, the anxiety has hit, as it always does, but the good news is that as always I know it will pass, and when I touch down on Saturday morning, I will be entirely ready for whatever adventure might come.  I have one day in Melbourne before Jayne and Squidge arrive, and at that point I will hit the ground running and discover whatever the 11 hours of waiting will provide - I anticipate a little shopping, a little hapless wandering, and more than a few pictures.  

Dangerous Encounters

I have had a fair number of adventures that would qualify as dangerous encounters - it's too easy when on the road to set yourself in harm's way, and when you're so absorbed by the view, sometimes it's blinding to the reality of the scenario.

Of the endeavours I have embarked upon, I could easily classify some to be absurd, another handful to be reckless, and at least a few to be downright dangerous.  These endeavours, though the ones I tend to harbor more closely, are the ones that lend themselves to good story telling.

I've never been one to shy away from risky behaviour.  As a teen, my then-friend Tiffany and I set out on what we called the a-BOM-ination walk, taking us to all corners of Mississauga over the course of fourteen hours.  We refused all offers of assistance (taxis, buses, and much later into our journey, the assistance of drunk men in cars) and instead opted to wander the streets haplessly.

It was something our parents would never approve of - two fifteen year old girls out on the city, walking all night - so we did what we had to do, and lied.  Conveniently, neither mother was apt to check on our story, so we slid by effortlessly and into the night, each armed with a backpack, a bottle of juice, and a list of things to wander.  I don't particularly remember what drove us to our walk, but knowing the kids we were then, it took very little for us to go off on a whim.

A few years later in life - finally having moved out on my own - I once again decided to embark on what would certainly count as a downright dangerous situation, leaving my home city (and country) to travel to a place I'd always wanted to go, but never found the means.  Money being what it is, and me having typically very little of it, I had to be creative.  Staying with strangers and relying on the few people who actually knew where I went, I never gave more than a few minutes thought to the potential for things to go wrong.  I might have been young and stupid, but stepping off that plane and heading toward what was completely unknown to me wasn't frightening at all.  I dragged my bag behind me, and set off on a new path, hoping that the adventure would be all I had hoped.

It was.

There were moments when things were somewhat shaky and times when I realized I had bitten off more than I could chew, but then I regrouped, and kept moving.  Of all my adventures, this one felt the most real.

In the past few years, there have been more adventures, and probably more than a few dangerous situations, and though most people would stop and worry that their actions would somehow impede their potential for a long and full life, I very rarely recognize the inherent danger until after the fact.

Walking through Valparaiso, Chile, I guided four women I barely knew, using my own rather tenuous grasp of the Spanish language to guide us.  Sans map.  When we got distracted by something - as we were prone to do - we'd walk ourselves into a new mercado, only to be warned yet again by lovely women selling handmade goods about the dangers in the area.  I was unfazed, and I didn't pass on the warnings to the others.  They didn't need to worry, and I felt certain that all was well.

Stumbling down Broadway in the wee small hours of the morning, barely coherent, and definitely not in any shape to defend myself, I've had rousing conversations with passers-by, and rewarded myself with a handbag purchased from a garbage bag on Lafayette.

I've gotten into arguments at gas stations in seedy neighbourhoods - the kinds of places you see in movies, and don't realize actually exist until you accidentally wander into them - and spent entire days in places where nobody knew I was, content to have my own adventure completely solitary of reality.

And even through all of this, and much more, I've never once worried for my own safety.  In what could only be described as a complete lack of the self-preservation instinct, I live based on the reality that life is what you make of it, and it's far too boring to just sit around and watch the excitement pass you by.

Australia will be a much calmer trip, I suspect.  Jayne and I have slowed down a bit now that Squidge is with us, and as we've gotten older, we've also grown a little more aware of our surroundings.  Late night drives into East Bergen, and stopping for gas in Baltimore are two things which we've struck from our 'to do' list, and we've now moved on to things less apt to require immediate medical attention.  Now, when I get myself into dangerous encounters, I tend to push the envelope and do them alone.

But it makes for incredible stories!

Annual Review - Looking Inside the Window

Having recently celebrated a birthday, I took the opportunity to turn my view inside a bit, and review what had been a rather tumultuous year.  Having had a myriad of adventure, misadventure, and probably more than a few unclassifiable events, I figured this was as good a time as any to do an annual review, right?

Jobs do it - they break down 12 months of actions and then establish what the sum of those months would be.  If you're lucky, you get a cost of living increase (plus a percent or two) and perhaps a little more vacation time.  If you're mediocre, you find something to cling to, and then use that as an action plan.  Usually you can sucker a raise, whether deserved or not, and even if you don't get that extra percent, you still feel validated.

We won't even look at the options for sub-par employees.  For the purpose of this analysis, we're going to strike that option.  (It was a rough year - but not that rough)

If I were trying to action plan my year, I'd say there is definite room for improvement.  First and foremost would be a little more focus on a life outside the four walls.  As nice as it is to look out the window, I think the view is getting a little old.  Nothing against the trees, the grass, or the creek that overflows at this time of year, but watching everything from so far away is getting a little old.

So, what's first?  Maybe getting involved in something - I've tossed the idea around before, but playing the game doesn't work if you only sit on the side lines.  What to get involved in is a whole other issue.  I've stared at lists of extracurricular activities as listed on our very own world wide web, and eliminated quite a few - birdwatching would likely drive me mad, and I'm fairly certain I'd be a public hazard were I to participate in any group craft projects.  The list will continue to be explored - there must be something I'm qualified to do.

Next up on my action plan is to diversify - everything.  When I travel, I'm all about the world around me, and everything I can see, touch, and breathe, but when I'm at home, I'm centered in a much smaller corner of the world, focussed on the very few things that come and go in my daily life.  Looking at the larger picture - opening a few more windows, and who knows, maybe even looking at a few different doors, sounds like the type of opportunity I need to allow myself.

What did I do right?  27 had some good points.  Poor decisions turned into smart judgement calls, as well as good career moves.  There were moments of complete clarity, and I think my grasp on reality has solidified.  With age comes knowledge, right?

If I were to try and establish where my year rated - whether or not I deserve that extra couple of percent - I'd say with reasonable certainty that I'm definitely moving forward.  The things I want to improve are an evolution, and it seems only natural that there will be some stumbles.

28 has begun with a relative bang - the memories I've made in the last week have been of views outside my own windows, and with friends both new and old.  I didn't ring in this newest year of life quite as I anticipated, but remarkably I can't say I'm disappointed.

There aren't all that many weeks left until I embark on my next endeavour - a whole new set of views to be had, and pictures to share as I go.  I'm hoping that along the way I find a little clarity as to what I'm looking for in my life at home, too, though I'm beginning to think it's all so intricately interwoven that I just have to sit back and wait for it to unfold.

Slowly Getting Back to my Life

I'm slowly making my way home, though to say slowly might be an understatement.  The train is at a standstill for the fifth or sixth time since leaving Toronto three hours ago.  We've been delayed, over and over again, though for various reasons.  Firstly there was a pedestrian struck by a train ahead of us, then we had to 'pair' up with another train (which was somehow supposed to make us move faster).  Next up was the delay because the train we paired up with broke down and then we got stopped for a random inspection.  

As I type, we're crawling along the track at a pace that would make Sunday drivers wave their fists in the air in frustration, but at least we're moving.  It's a slow process.  

Earlier, there were views to admire, and a world to see.  I snapped a few random pictures as we went, thinking that there was something comforting about the pace.  Now, as my arrival time approaches (and I'm no where near home) I'm getting more and more skeptical.  

  

For a while we were stopped and I had a lovely view of whatever small community this is.  It was very close to Toronto, though I don't remember much because this was the point at which they began telling us about the backlog.  

Eventually we moved a little further along and found this just outside of Cobourg.  I can't decide if I think this view is extremely beautiful or extremely sad.  A part of me is thankful for just the few last memories of winter, while the rest of me realizes that it will be a while before this all becomes green and beautiful as it should.  

When we finally reached Bowmanville, it was just before sunset.  It was still remarkably clear and bright, and when I looked out my window, I remembered that there was indeed evidence of Lake Ontario along the way.  Somehow this reminds me of a view I once had while in California, but as such a distant memory I think I might instead need to head back and be sure.  

It's completely dark now, and aside from random speckling of light on the horizon, there's not much to be seen.  I've watched two movies (already) and will break open a third at any moment.  The view isn't enough to entertain, and try as I might to pretend I find it of interest, now I am once again thinking of how fondly I enjoy travel by car and by plane.