It feels like I've been insanely busy over the last month. But now I've come to write about it, I can't think what I've been up to. Let's see ...
Work has been better (if a lot more uncertain and precarious). I've steered things my own way on the next issue of the magazine and, as a result, I think it's looking like the best one yet. I've also been expending a lot of time and effort on my 'chocolate-dipped carrots' mission to show other areas of the company how to improve their communications and write things that people will actually take notice of. (I had originally planned to go down the road of 'big stick' mission, until my boss told me - repeatedly - that there were no sticks.)
I'm also getting to go on a scriptwriting course run by the BBC, which I'm very excited about.
After four weeks off allowing the eyes to recover, I've been at the pool every morning. The snogging couple have mysteriously disappeared and seem to have been replaced by touchy-feely dive-bombing couple. The new eyes are brilliant under the water and I don't have to faff about trying to get my eyes to accept contact lenses at 6:30 in the morning.
I wear a swim cap because the chlorine was ruining the colour of my hair. I look thoroughly mingin' and think I'd die if someone actually recognised me. Last week, when I'd been swimming for about 10 minutes, I stopped at the end, ran my hand round the back of my head, and realised that I hadn't tucked my hair into the cap. It must have looked like I was wearing it for reasons of fashion rather than necessity. How embarrassing. (Though still not as embarrassing as the time I failed to notice my swimsuit had ripped itself open across my chest until I was out the pool and walking to the showers.)
Talking about hair, Emma cut me a fuller fringe last weekend. I've been growing my hair for over three years now and I get really bored just asking for the same thing, so I thought a fringe would give me a bit of a change without getting in the way of my Rapunzelesque plans. I really like it and think it makes me look younger. Two people have complimented me on it on Facebook and Kirsty at work said it was "much better" - which kinda made it sound like it was awful before, but she clarified that she didn't think it was bad before, it's just "much better" now. (Kirsty is very honest. She'll actually tell women she doesn't know whether or not something suits them in the changing rooms. Harsh, but helpful.)
I've been out to see Leanne, Ella and baby Holly a few times. Holly is cute as a button but does scream her head off a lot more than Ella ever did. I was saying to Leanne that Holly cries with such force that her features disappear and she looks like Cartman in South Park when he gets angry - just a face with a cross on it. It must be really, really exhausting for Leanne.
The woman at my work who kept telling me to hurry up and have kids has abated her efforts somewhat. I found a successful way of getting her to shut up was to answer her truthfully whenever she asked what I was up to at the weekend: cocktails with friends at Harvey Nick's, long weekend in Berlin, girly-weekend up North, dinner cooked by 'date-guy', long run on the beach, shopping for new boots, coffee and a book in Waterstones, etc. And then wait for the golden silcence that always follows. I realise my existence my seem shallow, but it's always really good fun.
I still assume I'll feel like I want to have kids at some stage, but it does seem like there's ever more to compromise, sacrifice and risk. Someone recently told me about their experience of giving birth and having to be stitched up again. There was concern that she'd "ripped right through", so the doctor stuck a finger into her ass, wiggled it around and said "No, no, we're fine". Then she heard them saying things like: "I'm not sure where this bit goes", "well, you won't be quite the same as you were before", and "There won't be any blood getting to this bit, so we may as well cut it off". She still doesn't know what they cut off. I reassuringly told her it was probably her clitoris. I swear, I almost fainted when she was telling me this story.
What else ...
I've started fitness training with the army twice a week. Outside in the cold and dark. My experiences with this merit an entry on their own, so I'll write that up soon. I've also signed myself up for a 5K in January, a half marathon (yikes) in April and a 10K in May. I've also bullied Louise at work into running twice a week at lunchtimes with me.
Oh, and I'm just back from a family trip to Berlin (again, I'll write this one up more fully on its own). After all the Christmas markets, I feel distinctively 'Christmassy' and sent out the invitations to my Blessing of the Tree parties, booked in my boozy lunch sessions and will shortly be getting the tree down from the attic. Well, after I've had today's chocolate from my advent calendar.
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Saturday, June 07, 2008
What's new with you?
Things with me are good. Really good. The majority of last year was a tough slog. Mostly just because of work. It was all worth it in the end though. Sinead and I had a fantastic time on our round-the-world trip. I think the fact that I worked so hard for it made it all the better. I'm not quite sure where I found the energy in the end, but I'm glad I did.
Another thing that made it better was the fact that I'd somehow managed to secure myself a much more nteresting and challenging new job for my return. This meant I was able to resign from the Cook Islands and flick it at the very people who had made things so tough for me, and enjoy my holiday in the knowledge that I'd never have to return to Mordor ever again. Woo. Hoo.
I have had plenty embarrassing escapades over the last six months and, knowing me, this is something that's likely to continue. I promise I'll try and document them all here.
Another thing that made it better was the fact that I'd somehow managed to secure myself a much more nteresting and challenging new job for my return. This meant I was able to resign from the Cook Islands and flick it at the very people who had made things so tough for me, and enjoy my holiday in the knowledge that I'd never have to return to Mordor ever again. Woo. Hoo.
I have had plenty embarrassing escapades over the last six months and, knowing me, this is something that's likely to continue. I promise I'll try and document them all here.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Sydneysiders
My sunburn didn't give me too much grief on the flight to Sydney, thankfully. We landed at the airport - minus any sniffer dogs or customs incidents - and got picked up by the lovely people at Base Sydney.
Again, Base does very well with its accommodation - we even have an LCD TV this time. We were both feeling a bit tired and really hungry. Shin consulted the Lonely Planet for its recommendations in the vicinity. "Liverpool Street has a plethora of Spanish restaurants, Lis." "I'm always happy to eat tapas stuff and Liverpool Street is pretty close," I said studying the freebie map I'd picked up at reception. "Let's do Captain Torres Lis!" "Gladly".
We set off at pace to find the legend that was Captain Torres. We walked one block and discovered Kent Street had now met Liverpool St."OK Lis, he's number 73. Let's go." "Shin, Shin, he's there. Right across the road!" "Ha ha ha. This is perfect. This is a sign. We're going to love Sydney."
Captain Torres was small and busy Spanish bar/restaurant with a cavern style and rustic feel to it. We took our seats and smiled heartily over the menus. We got an excellent bottle of Rioja which turned out to be the second best bottle I've had on the trip. The best was the Frog's Leap Zinfandel from our first night in Vegas. I'm so tracking these babies down when I get back home. We ordered a good amount, polished it all off, and smiled all the way back to Base.
On Tuesday the weather was fantastic and we set off on our sightseeing walk. Through Darling Harbour, down to Sydney Harbour Bridge - which is massive, around the Rocks area which is really picturesque and has lots of lovely outdoor bars and restaurants. We continued on past the Ferry terminals and round to the Opera House. It's so cool seeing something that you've seen so often on TV and in magazines.
After that we walked round through the Botanic Gardens and past the big outdoor cinema. There were hundreds of people out running and exercising. They had little running groups with coaches and stuff. It was totally full on and was making us feel slightly guilty so we agreed that we were probably power walking and burning off lots of calories. I saw a billboard that said: 'You need to run 4K to burn off two chocolate biscuits'. It made me think about all the Tim Tams I scoffed in the Cook Islands ... and New Zealand. But it was lunchtime and we were heading to Fratelli Paradiso so I could unleash my inner squid monster.
We walked through Wooloomooloo and kept repeating it to each other in our 'Australian accents'. I popped into Wooloomooloo pharmacy to get some more solarcaine and then we headed onto Kings Cross - or the 'Prozzie zone' as Shin liked to refer to it.
At Fratelli Paradiso, we took our seats and tried to freshen up. I had the squid and Sinead had the risotto. I also broke with my own personal protocol and ordered a dry riesling (all that wine tasting in NZ convinced me that white wine is OK after all). The food was delicious and we felt recharged and ready to hit the shops.
We did hit the shops - about an hour later - but they were rubbish. We decided the shops only cater for Nicole Kidman types (6ft tall, 6 inches wide and earning more than 6 figures) or 14 year old Asian girls who want to dress head-to-toe in Hello Kitty stuff. The best we could get was the surfer dude shops like Roxy, Quicksilver and Billabong. But that was it. Thoroughly knackered after our 20 mile hike we went home, had showers and went back to Liverpool Street for more Tapas and wine.
On Wednesday we went down to the Rocks because a woman had told Sinead there was a Gap in the DFS Galleria. We got there to discover it was nonsense and the DFS Galleria offered only Louis Vuitton, Bally, Armani and Ralph Lauren. We walked across the road to the pier to catch the ferry over to Manly. It was a really nice trip and we got great shots of the Opera House.
Manly was lovely and we bought some more stuff from Roxy and headed down to the beach. I was keeping the thighs under wraps given their recently acquired 3rd degree burns, and Shin was trying to remedy the farmer's tanline around her neck from the previous day.
Sinead's cousin Derek was picking us up at 5.30 so, after an entire day spent lying in the sun and dousing ourselves in factor 30, we tried our best to freshen up. We felt thoroughly mingin' and laughed about how awful we looked. I had sand all over my neck and in my hair - stuck to the suntan cream that was in there too.
Anyway, Derek picked us up, gave us a little tour of Manly and took us home to meet his lovely wife Ails and their two adorably gorgeous boys. We had champers and guava juice - which is delicious - some nibbles, and hot showers - woo hoo!
Derek and Ails took us out for dinner and for drinks at the Wharf Bar. It was all great. Shin and I waved goodbye and took the ferry back to Sydney. It was almost empty this time so we stood up the front and marveled at the illuminated city.
Thursday was another hot one and we were going out to Bondi beach to meet up with Lisa T, who was starting her 3 week holiday here. We took the train from Town Hall to Bondi Junction and checked out the shops at Westfield plaza. Again, there were lots of designer shops but not much like H&M. I told Shin I was off to look in the chemist at their sunburn remedies. "OK, I'll go and look at the pies," she said. The chemist didn't have anything I didn't already have, but I was pleased to be able to go and look at the pies too. There was a huge selection at this place called 'Pie Face' and they all had little smiley faces on them. Cute.
We looked around at a few more shops and tried on ridiculous head gear in Meyer department store. I tried on an enormous hat. - "You look like you're in Dallas Lis. - and Sinead tried on a comedy turban with some jewels on it. We amused ourselves like this for about 45 minutes and then decided to go have some lunch.
After that we got the bus out to Bondi beach, walked on the sand, people watched, had ice creams and sat in the sun with a few beers. Lisa T showed up around five, having just flown into Sydney from the UK that morning! She said she felt out of it and showed us her swollen ankles, but after a couple of beers and some dinner, she said she felt better. We checked out the hombres and agreed that the specimens were of good quality.
Around seven o'clock a huge thunderstorm arrived and dropped big fat dollops of rain on us. We jumped in a taxi back to Bondi Junction where Lisa went up to her apartment to get some much needed sleep and Shin and I caught the train back to Base.
I had to buy an emergency bag to fit all my extra stuff in, but got a good deal from Magda the Polish woman in the bag shop. "Ah, Lisa, you are from Scotland. I am from Poland. We are neighbours." I would never have described Scotland and Poland as neighbours before, but given how far away Australia is and the fact that I have to sit on my ass for 24 hours!!!! in order to get home, I said: "Of course we are."
So, just that big flight home now.
Again, Base does very well with its accommodation - we even have an LCD TV this time. We were both feeling a bit tired and really hungry. Shin consulted the Lonely Planet for its recommendations in the vicinity. "Liverpool Street has a plethora of Spanish restaurants, Lis." "I'm always happy to eat tapas stuff and Liverpool Street is pretty close," I said studying the freebie map I'd picked up at reception. "Let's do Captain Torres Lis!" "Gladly".
We set off at pace to find the legend that was Captain Torres. We walked one block and discovered Kent Street had now met Liverpool St."OK Lis, he's number 73. Let's go." "Shin, Shin, he's there. Right across the road!" "Ha ha ha. This is perfect. This is a sign. We're going to love Sydney."
Captain Torres was small and busy Spanish bar/restaurant with a cavern style and rustic feel to it. We took our seats and smiled heartily over the menus. We got an excellent bottle of Rioja which turned out to be the second best bottle I've had on the trip. The best was the Frog's Leap Zinfandel from our first night in Vegas. I'm so tracking these babies down when I get back home. We ordered a good amount, polished it all off, and smiled all the way back to Base.
On Tuesday the weather was fantastic and we set off on our sightseeing walk. Through Darling Harbour, down to Sydney Harbour Bridge - which is massive, around the Rocks area which is really picturesque and has lots of lovely outdoor bars and restaurants. We continued on past the Ferry terminals and round to the Opera House. It's so cool seeing something that you've seen so often on TV and in magazines.
After that we walked round through the Botanic Gardens and past the big outdoor cinema. There were hundreds of people out running and exercising. They had little running groups with coaches and stuff. It was totally full on and was making us feel slightly guilty so we agreed that we were probably power walking and burning off lots of calories. I saw a billboard that said: 'You need to run 4K to burn off two chocolate biscuits'. It made me think about all the Tim Tams I scoffed in the Cook Islands ... and New Zealand. But it was lunchtime and we were heading to Fratelli Paradiso so I could unleash my inner squid monster.
We walked through Wooloomooloo and kept repeating it to each other in our 'Australian accents'. I popped into Wooloomooloo pharmacy to get some more solarcaine and then we headed onto Kings Cross - or the 'Prozzie zone' as Shin liked to refer to it.
At Fratelli Paradiso, we took our seats and tried to freshen up. I had the squid and Sinead had the risotto. I also broke with my own personal protocol and ordered a dry riesling (all that wine tasting in NZ convinced me that white wine is OK after all). The food was delicious and we felt recharged and ready to hit the shops.
We did hit the shops - about an hour later - but they were rubbish. We decided the shops only cater for Nicole Kidman types (6ft tall, 6 inches wide and earning more than 6 figures) or 14 year old Asian girls who want to dress head-to-toe in Hello Kitty stuff. The best we could get was the surfer dude shops like Roxy, Quicksilver and Billabong. But that was it. Thoroughly knackered after our 20 mile hike we went home, had showers and went back to Liverpool Street for more Tapas and wine.
On Wednesday we went down to the Rocks because a woman had told Sinead there was a Gap in the DFS Galleria. We got there to discover it was nonsense and the DFS Galleria offered only Louis Vuitton, Bally, Armani and Ralph Lauren. We walked across the road to the pier to catch the ferry over to Manly. It was a really nice trip and we got great shots of the Opera House.
Manly was lovely and we bought some more stuff from Roxy and headed down to the beach. I was keeping the thighs under wraps given their recently acquired 3rd degree burns, and Shin was trying to remedy the farmer's tanline around her neck from the previous day.
Sinead's cousin Derek was picking us up at 5.30 so, after an entire day spent lying in the sun and dousing ourselves in factor 30, we tried our best to freshen up. We felt thoroughly mingin' and laughed about how awful we looked. I had sand all over my neck and in my hair - stuck to the suntan cream that was in there too.
Anyway, Derek picked us up, gave us a little tour of Manly and took us home to meet his lovely wife Ails and their two adorably gorgeous boys. We had champers and guava juice - which is delicious - some nibbles, and hot showers - woo hoo!
Derek and Ails took us out for dinner and for drinks at the Wharf Bar. It was all great. Shin and I waved goodbye and took the ferry back to Sydney. It was almost empty this time so we stood up the front and marveled at the illuminated city.
Thursday was another hot one and we were going out to Bondi beach to meet up with Lisa T, who was starting her 3 week holiday here. We took the train from Town Hall to Bondi Junction and checked out the shops at Westfield plaza. Again, there were lots of designer shops but not much like H&M. I told Shin I was off to look in the chemist at their sunburn remedies. "OK, I'll go and look at the pies," she said. The chemist didn't have anything I didn't already have, but I was pleased to be able to go and look at the pies too. There was a huge selection at this place called 'Pie Face' and they all had little smiley faces on them. Cute.
We looked around at a few more shops and tried on ridiculous head gear in Meyer department store. I tried on an enormous hat. - "You look like you're in Dallas Lis. - and Sinead tried on a comedy turban with some jewels on it. We amused ourselves like this for about 45 minutes and then decided to go have some lunch.
After that we got the bus out to Bondi beach, walked on the sand, people watched, had ice creams and sat in the sun with a few beers. Lisa T showed up around five, having just flown into Sydney from the UK that morning! She said she felt out of it and showed us her swollen ankles, but after a couple of beers and some dinner, she said she felt better. We checked out the hombres and agreed that the specimens were of good quality.
Around seven o'clock a huge thunderstorm arrived and dropped big fat dollops of rain on us. We jumped in a taxi back to Bondi Junction where Lisa went up to her apartment to get some much needed sleep and Shin and I caught the train back to Base.
I had to buy an emergency bag to fit all my extra stuff in, but got a good deal from Magda the Polish woman in the bag shop. "Ah, Lisa, you are from Scotland. I am from Poland. We are neighbours." I would never have described Scotland and Poland as neighbours before, but given how far away Australia is and the fact that I have to sit on my ass for 24 hours!!!! in order to get home, I said: "Of course we are."
So, just that big flight home now.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Great Barrier Grief
Another glorious day in Cairns and we set off on our Great Barrier Reef Cruise. The boat was reputedly the fastest to the reef, which I was pleased about given my terrible habit of throwing up when I'm on one. Another bonus was the fact that it catered for snorkeling and scuba diving which meant Shin and I didn't have to book separate cruises to get what we wanted.
I sensibly took some of the anti-sea sickness tablets that were on offer and they seemed to serve me well. We got out to the reef and Sinead suited up in her anti-jellyfish outfit and headed out for a spot of snorkeling. I got tanked up for some scuba and set off. The Scuba guy had been running through a list of things we might see in the water - "turtles, clown fish, wasse and lots of Japanese" - surprise, surprise.
Annoyingly, the Scuba guys insisted on linking arms with everyone in the group. There were only five of us, but it still freaked me out. The old Japanese guy on my right kept doing breast-stroke arms and was getting dangerously close to my regulator. Then he'd let go of my arm to take some pictures and flap about frantically trying to get hold of my again. I was deliberately making my arm as inaccessible as possible and it turned into some kind of underwater Benny Hill sketch as he tried to catch up to me and link arms again.
Back on the boat we had a barbecue lunch and set off for our second reef spot. I decided to do a second dive for the bargain basement price of 17 quid. Knowing that I always feel less sick on deck than I do inside, I headed up to the sunbathers' area and set out my towel next to some girls wearing the tiniest thongs I've ever seen. They were all really brown and oiling themselves up. Still, with all my scuba and diving off the back of the boat I felt like Princess Di so I didn't mind lying next to the professional tan team too much.
Sinead joined me for a bit and said: "This is the life Lis. I feel like we're celebrities." "I know. I was just thinking I feel like Princess Di." "Ha ha. I feel like the paps should be taking pictures of me so readers back home can discuss my beach body."
My second dive was much better. The water was clearer, the colours more vibrant and I didn't have to hold anyone's arm. I saw some more clams but they weren't as big as the giant one in the Cook Islands, and I found Nemo. There were millions of them. I went up and did some snorkeling. Shin and I tried to take some pictures of each other under water, so we'll see how those turn out.
I headed back onto the boat so I could take up my position on the sun deck for the journey back home. The thong brigade hadn't moved - I think they must have been real celebrities. Anyway, it was roasting so I kept topping up my sun cream and I was glad when the boat started off for home and I got a bit of a cooling breeze. It was great. I was lying on a speedboat on the other side of the world, getting some sun, not feeling sick and being pleased with myself cause scuba counts as exercise. Total celebrity!
A Japanese woman wearing a leopard and zebra print kaftan (make your mind up hen) sat down beside me and started munching on a sandwich. It was really windy so every time she went to take a bit, some of it would fly out and hit me in the face. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said picking her tuna off my face. At first I didn't say anything and her apology was enough, but it happened another 2 times so I lost it and felt compelled to say: "Will you please get your sandwich under control!" Gross.
She eventually went back inside and left me food free, which I was pleased about. As the boat came back into the harbour, I got my stuff together and noticed the tops of my thighs were looking suspiciously pink. "Arggh! This is not a good sign." Needless to say, I spent that night with my legs covered in Solarcaine and wet towels. To make matters worse, every second advert on TV was about skin cancer. "Quick. Turn it over Shin. I can't bear to watch." Admittedly, I was feeling distinctly less like a celebrity after that.
I sensibly took some of the anti-sea sickness tablets that were on offer and they seemed to serve me well. We got out to the reef and Sinead suited up in her anti-jellyfish outfit and headed out for a spot of snorkeling. I got tanked up for some scuba and set off. The Scuba guy had been running through a list of things we might see in the water - "turtles, clown fish, wasse and lots of Japanese" - surprise, surprise.
Annoyingly, the Scuba guys insisted on linking arms with everyone in the group. There were only five of us, but it still freaked me out. The old Japanese guy on my right kept doing breast-stroke arms and was getting dangerously close to my regulator. Then he'd let go of my arm to take some pictures and flap about frantically trying to get hold of my again. I was deliberately making my arm as inaccessible as possible and it turned into some kind of underwater Benny Hill sketch as he tried to catch up to me and link arms again.
Back on the boat we had a barbecue lunch and set off for our second reef spot. I decided to do a second dive for the bargain basement price of 17 quid. Knowing that I always feel less sick on deck than I do inside, I headed up to the sunbathers' area and set out my towel next to some girls wearing the tiniest thongs I've ever seen. They were all really brown and oiling themselves up. Still, with all my scuba and diving off the back of the boat I felt like Princess Di so I didn't mind lying next to the professional tan team too much.
Sinead joined me for a bit and said: "This is the life Lis. I feel like we're celebrities." "I know. I was just thinking I feel like Princess Di." "Ha ha. I feel like the paps should be taking pictures of me so readers back home can discuss my beach body."
My second dive was much better. The water was clearer, the colours more vibrant and I didn't have to hold anyone's arm. I saw some more clams but they weren't as big as the giant one in the Cook Islands, and I found Nemo. There were millions of them. I went up and did some snorkeling. Shin and I tried to take some pictures of each other under water, so we'll see how those turn out.
I headed back onto the boat so I could take up my position on the sun deck for the journey back home. The thong brigade hadn't moved - I think they must have been real celebrities. Anyway, it was roasting so I kept topping up my sun cream and I was glad when the boat started off for home and I got a bit of a cooling breeze. It was great. I was lying on a speedboat on the other side of the world, getting some sun, not feeling sick and being pleased with myself cause scuba counts as exercise. Total celebrity!
A Japanese woman wearing a leopard and zebra print kaftan (make your mind up hen) sat down beside me and started munching on a sandwich. It was really windy so every time she went to take a bit, some of it would fly out and hit me in the face. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said picking her tuna off my face. At first I didn't say anything and her apology was enough, but it happened another 2 times so I lost it and felt compelled to say: "Will you please get your sandwich under control!" Gross.
She eventually went back inside and left me food free, which I was pleased about. As the boat came back into the harbour, I got my stuff together and noticed the tops of my thighs were looking suspiciously pink. "Arggh! This is not a good sign." Needless to say, I spent that night with my legs covered in Solarcaine and wet towels. To make matters worse, every second advert on TV was about skin cancer. "Quick. Turn it over Shin. I can't bear to watch." Admittedly, I was feeling distinctly less like a celebrity after that.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Smuggling and cuddling
We left a bright and sunny Auckland and touched down in a humid and wet Cairns. My tactic for getting my passport stamped on the page I wanted finally paid dividends and I felt really pleased with myself.
I felt even more pleased for myself when I was treated to the unexpected comedy of Sinead's bag being singled out by the Sniffer Dog. Shin doesn't like dogs ("I'm no animal lover Lis!" and her face was a picture when Sam the Sniffer Dog and his Nazi Handler decided they needed to check her bag. There was loud sighing, unmistakable body language and some 'what a complete waste of time. muppets!' head shaking. The Handler asked Shin if she'd been carrying any lavender seeds in her bag and I had to stifle my giggles. Sinead's eyebrows did a few Mexican waves before she (caustically) answered: "Lavender seeds? Eh, no - I don't think so." "What's this?" the Handler enquired. "That would be a chocolate bar. The sniffer dog found a chocolate bar Lis, fancy that!"
We got sent over to Customs for a bag search. I'd decided not to declare Snowball - the wooden turtle I purchased in Aitutaki for the purpose of adding to my menagerie of carved animals (I only have 3 - including Snowball - and I don't intend to get anymore lest I become one of those weird 'collector' people who have too many cats, plants, Royal Doulton dolls or heads in their freezer). Anyway, it's just a wooden turtle souvenir and I couldn't really be bothered with the hassle so I just ticked 'No' on the form.
The Customs Officer opened up my bag and pulled Snowball out. Sinead shook her head and distanced herself from me. Holding Snowball by his head right in front of my face, the Customs Officer said "You need to declare this." "Oh? Oh! Oh, I totally forgot about that." I started smiling enthusiastically and made my eyes go even bigger. "I'm really sorry. I totally forgot." I put my hands to my face in a fiddle-de-dee gesture. The Customs Officer fetches a Government leaflet and goes through it with me. "Right. I see. I can completely understand. Really? Of course. Absolutely. I'm terribly sorry. Have a nice day." "You too dear. Enjoy your holiday!" Sinead is still shaking her head. "You're a bloody nutcase, Lis. I saw you feigning great interest in her leaflet. Getting into Australia might be a bit more difficult for you next time. Ha ha ha."
We checked into the Bohemia Resort. Nice. Another decent shower and a hairdryer. Although the beds are on wheels and the room has a tiled floor so every time I sit down I roll about 3 feet. It's absolutely pouring outside so we're in no hurry to get changed and go out. I'm setting up my beauty counter in the bathroom when Shin calls me out frantically. I figured there was a spider or a crocodile in the room, but it turns out to be something even more unbelievable.
"It's Oprah, Lis. Bloody Oprah." I don't believe it. She's only been talking about Oprah since we left. We get settled down to watch. It gets better. That Gayle woman is on the show and I can totally see why the rumours exist. They're reclining on chairbeds in front of the studio audience and talking about their experience at the Spa. At the ad break we find out the show is called 'Oprah and Gayle's Spa Adventure', Sinead is laughing so hard those little tears are running down her cheeks again.
Oprah and Gayle are exercising to gay anthems with a group of 'lucky viewers' they are celebrating as 'America's Women Warriors of 2008'. "Oh my God Shin. This couldn't be more gay if the Village People were working out with them." Shin laughs, "They just about are. Look Oprah's all dressed up as an army chief and Gayle's got her sweat bands on." "This is hilarious. I can't believe this is on."
Just then we turned and looked at each other reclining on our own beds. I was lying in my pants and Shin was wrapped in a towel toga style - and we both had our specs on. We burst out laughing and through the giggling Shin managed to say: "Check us, Lis. We're more gay than them. Look at us! With our specs on like a couple of literary lesbos. Ha ha ha - this is too funny. I was laughing so hard I started to choke.
We went out in the pouring rain and booked onto a Great Barrier Reef snorkeling and scuba trip for Sunday then went back to the Resort to cook up dinner on one of the self service BBQs. Shin beat me at pool - twice. It turns out, I'm only good at it when my Dad points to exactly the part of the ball I should hit.
Whilst booking the Great Barrier Reef tour, I - magpie-like - caught sight of a leaflet showing someone cuddling a Koala. "I'm going to do that tomorrow," I told Shin. Sinead said she wouldn't be cuddling any disease-ridden Koalas but she'd come with me for the trip. At 0930 the next morning, we caught the Kuaranda Scenic Railway up to the Tablelands rainforest. It was a really enjoyable trip with some good stuff to see along the way. Our favourite spot of the day was a 70-year old woman who looked a lot like me. "Lis, that'll be you in 45 years! Quick stand close to her and I'll get a picture." I did and we laughed all the way to the Koala cuddling.
The Koala was so cute and the pics are great. I thought briefly about trying to smuggle it out of Australia but decided that it might be difficult to get a plentiful supply of Eucalyptus in the UK. I think I'll just look for one on EBAY instead.
I felt even more pleased for myself when I was treated to the unexpected comedy of Sinead's bag being singled out by the Sniffer Dog. Shin doesn't like dogs ("I'm no animal lover Lis!" and her face was a picture when Sam the Sniffer Dog and his Nazi Handler decided they needed to check her bag. There was loud sighing, unmistakable body language and some 'what a complete waste of time. muppets!' head shaking. The Handler asked Shin if she'd been carrying any lavender seeds in her bag and I had to stifle my giggles. Sinead's eyebrows did a few Mexican waves before she (caustically) answered: "Lavender seeds? Eh, no - I don't think so." "What's this?" the Handler enquired. "That would be a chocolate bar. The sniffer dog found a chocolate bar Lis, fancy that!"
We got sent over to Customs for a bag search. I'd decided not to declare Snowball - the wooden turtle I purchased in Aitutaki for the purpose of adding to my menagerie of carved animals (I only have 3 - including Snowball - and I don't intend to get anymore lest I become one of those weird 'collector' people who have too many cats, plants, Royal Doulton dolls or heads in their freezer). Anyway, it's just a wooden turtle souvenir and I couldn't really be bothered with the hassle so I just ticked 'No' on the form.
The Customs Officer opened up my bag and pulled Snowball out. Sinead shook her head and distanced herself from me. Holding Snowball by his head right in front of my face, the Customs Officer said "You need to declare this." "Oh? Oh! Oh, I totally forgot about that." I started smiling enthusiastically and made my eyes go even bigger. "I'm really sorry. I totally forgot." I put my hands to my face in a fiddle-de-dee gesture. The Customs Officer fetches a Government leaflet and goes through it with me. "Right. I see. I can completely understand. Really? Of course. Absolutely. I'm terribly sorry. Have a nice day." "You too dear. Enjoy your holiday!" Sinead is still shaking her head. "You're a bloody nutcase, Lis. I saw you feigning great interest in her leaflet. Getting into Australia might be a bit more difficult for you next time. Ha ha ha."
We checked into the Bohemia Resort. Nice. Another decent shower and a hairdryer. Although the beds are on wheels and the room has a tiled floor so every time I sit down I roll about 3 feet. It's absolutely pouring outside so we're in no hurry to get changed and go out. I'm setting up my beauty counter in the bathroom when Shin calls me out frantically. I figured there was a spider or a crocodile in the room, but it turns out to be something even more unbelievable.
"It's Oprah, Lis. Bloody Oprah." I don't believe it. She's only been talking about Oprah since we left. We get settled down to watch. It gets better. That Gayle woman is on the show and I can totally see why the rumours exist. They're reclining on chairbeds in front of the studio audience and talking about their experience at the Spa. At the ad break we find out the show is called 'Oprah and Gayle's Spa Adventure', Sinead is laughing so hard those little tears are running down her cheeks again.
Oprah and Gayle are exercising to gay anthems with a group of 'lucky viewers' they are celebrating as 'America's Women Warriors of 2008'. "Oh my God Shin. This couldn't be more gay if the Village People were working out with them." Shin laughs, "They just about are. Look Oprah's all dressed up as an army chief and Gayle's got her sweat bands on." "This is hilarious. I can't believe this is on."
Just then we turned and looked at each other reclining on our own beds. I was lying in my pants and Shin was wrapped in a towel toga style - and we both had our specs on. We burst out laughing and through the giggling Shin managed to say: "Check us, Lis. We're more gay than them. Look at us! With our specs on like a couple of literary lesbos. Ha ha ha - this is too funny. I was laughing so hard I started to choke.
We went out in the pouring rain and booked onto a Great Barrier Reef snorkeling and scuba trip for Sunday then went back to the Resort to cook up dinner on one of the self service BBQs. Shin beat me at pool - twice. It turns out, I'm only good at it when my Dad points to exactly the part of the ball I should hit.
Whilst booking the Great Barrier Reef tour, I - magpie-like - caught sight of a leaflet showing someone cuddling a Koala. "I'm going to do that tomorrow," I told Shin. Sinead said she wouldn't be cuddling any disease-ridden Koalas but she'd come with me for the trip. At 0930 the next morning, we caught the Kuaranda Scenic Railway up to the Tablelands rainforest. It was a really enjoyable trip with some good stuff to see along the way. Our favourite spot of the day was a 70-year old woman who looked a lot like me. "Lis, that'll be you in 45 years! Quick stand close to her and I'll get a picture." I did and we laughed all the way to the Koala cuddling.
The Koala was so cute and the pics are great. I thought briefly about trying to smuggle it out of Australia but decided that it might be difficult to get a plentiful supply of Eucalyptus in the UK. I think I'll just look for one on EBAY instead.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Auckland taco trauma
We said farewell to cool Queenstown and flew into Auckland for a day and a half.
Sinead had booked us into Base which turned out to be ace backpacker accommodation - shiny clean, good linen, tv, hairdryer and our own private wet room. The only downside was that Sinead got to strecth out in the double bed and I was still stuck in a top bunk. Fairness was restored, however, when Shin kept banging her head off the metal frame above her bed.
We figured there's not much to see in Auckland, so we quickly decided to make this 'down-time'. We opened the balcony doors to let the air and sunshine in, then spent sometime lying on our beds in our pants watching TV. "You know what would really make this briliant Lis?" "No, what?" "If Oprah was on." Sinead started flicking through the TV channels.
Shin is obsessed with Oprah and has been talking about her ever since we arrived in Vegas. "Argh! All American TV shows is dramatic news or the bloody weather Lis. Where's Oprah?" We passed a newsagents and Shin spotted the National Enquirer announcing that Oprah and Steadman had split up. "Ha, ha. That's cause Oprah wants to go out with Gayle." I'm sorry to say I'm not up on my Oprah-knowledge so I had no idea who Gayle was. "Oh yeah, it's been a big rumour for years and Oprah even denounced it on her show." I suggested Sinead put a bet on Oprah and Gayle going public in 2008 when she gets back home, but she said she'd get poor odds it's so obvious.
When we were on our trashy celebrity tour in Hollywood and the driver pointed out Dr Phil's house. Sinead announced loudly "I think he's having an affair with Oprah." I told her to keep her voice down as saying anything against Oprah is considered blasphemy in the US. Anyway, there was no Oprah in Auckland and we were getting hungry so we got ready and went out.
Kiwis love their pies, and they have some strange combinations like steak and cheese, and mince and cheese. Back in New Plymouth with Jenny and Ben, we'd voiced our reluctance at sampling such a 'delicacy', but by now we felt we had to see what all the fuss was about. We agreed that we would head off in search of a quality pie. I consulted the Lonely Planet and found out Ponsonby Pies on Ponsonby Road was supposed to be good.
Auckland isn't all that compact and we discovered that Ponsoby is actually a separate area some distance from the City Centre. Then we discovered that Ponsonby Road is one of the longest roads ever. We walked up and down it twice before Shin popped her head into Sugar Brown's Bakery to ask where the Pie shop was. The girl said she'd been there before but couldn't exactly remember where it was. She told us it was on the opposite side of the road and back in the direction we'd come from. We still couldn't find it. "I should just write things down" I said. Sinead didn't answer. A short while later, she announced she was getting delirious and had to have something to eat NOW! So we stopped at this place called The Chapel. The waitress told us that the Fish of the Day was a 'Bluenose' and Shin looked at me with a raised eyebrow and said: "Well, we'll no be having that in the chapel." Ha ha ha ha.
Our sugar levels restored on some tapas items, we headed back into the city centre and down to the waterfront. We got ice creams and sat on a bench watching the commuter ferries departing.
We started the next day with tea and toast at Base. We discussed Margaret Thatcher and whether or not she'd get a state funeral. "Oh she bloody will as well," said Shin, "but I bet there'll be loads of protests. It'll be great." "Do you remember when she got totally quizzed by an audience member about the sinking of the Belgrano?" "Yeah, she was struggling to comprehend the fact that someone was challenging 'the Prime Minister." "Brilliant." "Let's You Tube it later."
We looked round the shops but they were in short supply, so we went to the cinema and booked tickets for a film that evening. Then we headed down to the waterfront and got some tacos for lunch. I asked for one with steak and one with chicken, but the guy made one with steak and one with steak and chicken. Hawkeye Shin had clocked this and said we ordered one with steak and one with chicken. The guy tried to say this is what we had, but it wasn't. The guy then admitted he'd made a mistake and put some steak in the chicken one and could we not just take it. The crazy fool was all gesturing and making pleading faces and thumbs up signs to Sinead. My heart sank and I started to walk away because I knew this was a mortal error. Sinead looked right at him then started speaking loudly, clearly and slowly. "One with steak. One with chicken. It's really not that difficult. I'm not eating that and I'd like you to make what was ordered in the first place. It's simple." The guy did as he was told. Who wouldn't?
Given the trauma of ordering the things, they were actually really tasty and we sat in the sun and washed them down with a couple of cold beers. Bliss. We continued on to the Market Square area and discovered an open-air Irish pub showing the tennis. We got 2 jugs of Pimms and watched Sharapova and Jankovic. "I'm lovin this Lis. This is great." We stayed there until the sun started to fade then we walked back to get ready for a night at the flicks. "Let's tackle the bags in the morning," I said eyeing mine ominously. "Agreed."
Sinead had booked us into Base which turned out to be ace backpacker accommodation - shiny clean, good linen, tv, hairdryer and our own private wet room. The only downside was that Sinead got to strecth out in the double bed and I was still stuck in a top bunk. Fairness was restored, however, when Shin kept banging her head off the metal frame above her bed.
We figured there's not much to see in Auckland, so we quickly decided to make this 'down-time'. We opened the balcony doors to let the air and sunshine in, then spent sometime lying on our beds in our pants watching TV. "You know what would really make this briliant Lis?" "No, what?" "If Oprah was on." Sinead started flicking through the TV channels.
Shin is obsessed with Oprah and has been talking about her ever since we arrived in Vegas. "Argh! All American TV shows is dramatic news or the bloody weather Lis. Where's Oprah?" We passed a newsagents and Shin spotted the National Enquirer announcing that Oprah and Steadman had split up. "Ha, ha. That's cause Oprah wants to go out with Gayle." I'm sorry to say I'm not up on my Oprah-knowledge so I had no idea who Gayle was. "Oh yeah, it's been a big rumour for years and Oprah even denounced it on her show." I suggested Sinead put a bet on Oprah and Gayle going public in 2008 when she gets back home, but she said she'd get poor odds it's so obvious.
When we were on our trashy celebrity tour in Hollywood and the driver pointed out Dr Phil's house. Sinead announced loudly "I think he's having an affair with Oprah." I told her to keep her voice down as saying anything against Oprah is considered blasphemy in the US. Anyway, there was no Oprah in Auckland and we were getting hungry so we got ready and went out.
Kiwis love their pies, and they have some strange combinations like steak and cheese, and mince and cheese. Back in New Plymouth with Jenny and Ben, we'd voiced our reluctance at sampling such a 'delicacy', but by now we felt we had to see what all the fuss was about. We agreed that we would head off in search of a quality pie. I consulted the Lonely Planet and found out Ponsonby Pies on Ponsonby Road was supposed to be good.
Auckland isn't all that compact and we discovered that Ponsoby is actually a separate area some distance from the City Centre. Then we discovered that Ponsonby Road is one of the longest roads ever. We walked up and down it twice before Shin popped her head into Sugar Brown's Bakery to ask where the Pie shop was. The girl said she'd been there before but couldn't exactly remember where it was. She told us it was on the opposite side of the road and back in the direction we'd come from. We still couldn't find it. "I should just write things down" I said. Sinead didn't answer. A short while later, she announced she was getting delirious and had to have something to eat NOW! So we stopped at this place called The Chapel. The waitress told us that the Fish of the Day was a 'Bluenose' and Shin looked at me with a raised eyebrow and said: "Well, we'll no be having that in the chapel." Ha ha ha ha.
Our sugar levels restored on some tapas items, we headed back into the city centre and down to the waterfront. We got ice creams and sat on a bench watching the commuter ferries departing.
We started the next day with tea and toast at Base. We discussed Margaret Thatcher and whether or not she'd get a state funeral. "Oh she bloody will as well," said Shin, "but I bet there'll be loads of protests. It'll be great." "Do you remember when she got totally quizzed by an audience member about the sinking of the Belgrano?" "Yeah, she was struggling to comprehend the fact that someone was challenging 'the Prime Minister." "Brilliant." "Let's You Tube it later."
We looked round the shops but they were in short supply, so we went to the cinema and booked tickets for a film that evening. Then we headed down to the waterfront and got some tacos for lunch. I asked for one with steak and one with chicken, but the guy made one with steak and one with steak and chicken. Hawkeye Shin had clocked this and said we ordered one with steak and one with chicken. The guy tried to say this is what we had, but it wasn't. The guy then admitted he'd made a mistake and put some steak in the chicken one and could we not just take it. The crazy fool was all gesturing and making pleading faces and thumbs up signs to Sinead. My heart sank and I started to walk away because I knew this was a mortal error. Sinead looked right at him then started speaking loudly, clearly and slowly. "One with steak. One with chicken. It's really not that difficult. I'm not eating that and I'd like you to make what was ordered in the first place. It's simple." The guy did as he was told. Who wouldn't?
Given the trauma of ordering the things, they were actually really tasty and we sat in the sun and washed them down with a couple of cold beers. Bliss. We continued on to the Market Square area and discovered an open-air Irish pub showing the tennis. We got 2 jugs of Pimms and watched Sharapova and Jankovic. "I'm lovin this Lis. This is great." We stayed there until the sun started to fade then we walked back to get ready for a night at the flicks. "Let's tackle the bags in the morning," I said eyeing mine ominously. "Agreed."
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Water & wine
Queenstown is an adrenalin junkie's paradise, so I feel like I do have to try stuff that's a bit out of the norm.
My first activity was the paragliding. I'll admit I felt a little bit nauseous as we were making our way to the Skyline Gondola. Walking past Harry's Bar at 10am, I couldn't help but hear they were blasting out 'Knocking on Heaven's Door'. "I hope that's not a warning," I said to Shin.
At the top of the mountain, I meet Brady - my pilot. We trek even further up the mountain and arrive at the open top. It looks really, really high. Brady gets me suited up, sticks a crash helmet on me, then begins sorting out the parachute. He explains that when he tells me to, he wants me to start walking, then running. Apparently, I've to keep running until there's no ground under my feet.
"So, basically, Brady, you want me to just run off the side of this mountain?"
"That's it Lis. Easy as that."
"So, eh, just ... em... off... the eh...the em... mountain?" I'm gesturing and giving plenty of assertive head nods but I'm totally nervous.
Shin is bouncing about like a happy hobbit. "Ha ha, you look like a nut case in that gear Lis." "Shut it, so do you." Shin spots Glenda, a 75 year old going for it too. "Oh she's so cute," Shin exclaims, "Look at her wee shoes."
Glenda goes first. Gav and Brady basically throw Glenda and her pilot off the mountain. But it's all going well and I can hear Glenda making positive sounds up in the air.
"OK Lis, because you're 50 years younger, you don't get any help," says Brady.
"So I'm ...em ...with the ... the em ... running thing... right?"
"OK Lis, you're a legend babe. Start walking."
I do and I feel the pull of the chute behind me. I keep going.
"Run baby run!" Brady shouts excitedly.
I do. I keep running. I run right off the mountain. I keep running til Brady points out I'm running on fresh air and I can sit back and enjoy the ride. How cool is this. It's amazing. I feel fantastic. So smooth. The whole town opens up beneath me. Like way, way beneath me. I start speaking like Brady.
"This is awesome." I shout
"Dude." He says in agreement.
The next day is river surfing. At 9am we drive to the start of the route. Another day, another chance for me to put on a wetsuit and risk some more bruises. Shin, wisely, has decided to give it a miss and is snoozing in her bed as I jump 25 ft off some rocks into the freezing cold river. Bjorn and Thomas - the guides are pretty hands off and basically let us get on with it.
My experience with activities is that they are never as scary or full on as they seem. I take all that back now. Grade 4 rapids - totally terrifying! I get sucked down into whirlpools and crash over some surprisingly big waves. It's exhilarating stuff - especially when I manage to surf along one of the waves.
Annoyingly, a Spanish woman surfs over the top of me and traps me under water. I can't surface. I get sucked down further. In desperation, I let go of my board, turn into the Hulk and propel myself out of the water. I don't know if I roared out loud, but I definitely did on the inside. The Spanish woman says "Sorry" and, despite the fact that she just nearly killed me, I smile back and say "It's fine. Don't worry about it."
The river goes quiet again and I float for a bit. It's the same place they filmed Lord of the Rings where Frodo sails past the pillars of the Kings. Cool as anything.
Bjorn and Thomas take us out of the river to show us the next stage of our journey. "This is the Chinese Dogleg." I look down and see about a mile of furious rapids crashing over rocks and forming big waves and little whirlpools. They've got to be kidding. But apparently they're not. "OK guys - upstream and out, downstream onto the first wave, barrel-roll the second, duck-dive the third then stay left as the river splits and we don't want to lose anyone."
3 waves? I can see about 20. I'm so not going to get this right. We head out and my heart is pumping full on as I face down the first set of waves. Miraculously, I manage it. Bjorn decides I'm fine and goes off to the aid of one of the others. I'm kicking left like he told me. Kicking left, left, left.
Suddenly Thomas is roaring at me to go right. Apparently I've gone too far left. I turn and kick and kick but the river is far too strong and it's just carrying me where it wants.
"Right, right, right," Thomas is still roaring. "You're going to hit the rocks."
I can see I'm going to hit the rocks. They're right in front of me and I can't move.
"You'll hit the rocks Lisa."
"I know," I shout back at him.
"Are you kicking?"
No Thomas, I'm just lying here like it's a lilo not bothering about the impending doom I see before me ... "of course, I'm fu*king kicking!"
As I start to go over the first of the rocks his face crumples into a look that says 'I'm not sure I'll be able to recover all the parts of your body.' It all happens really quickly and the only thing I'm aware of is some kind of tearing on my right hand which is under the board.
I get through it and Thomas looks both amazed and relieved. He grabs me and pulls me into the middle of the river. We're not in the middle of some grade 3 rapids which feels like a holiday compared to the Chinese Dogleg. I make it to the end of the course before everyone else - so I guess my shortcut over the rocks helped. My fingers are missing quite a lot of skin and bleeding quite a lot, but I feel great.
Telling Shin about it later, she asks with a chuckle: "So, would you say you enjoyed it?"
"I know it sounds utterly perverse given what I've just told you, but yeah, I really did!" What a weirdo!
In the evening I realise that all my muscles are aching and my right ankle is really sore. I explain to Shin that I broke my left ankle when I fell off a hill in Skye and my right one now does all the work (though it's still carrying that injury from the coconut). It was clearly exhausted by the kicking in the flippers. After some harassment, Shin agrees to rotate it for me and make it crack. She has to put on her music so she won't hear it, but when it does crack she feels it and screams then refuses to do it again. "You need Jo, Lis. She'd love doing that. She'd peel all your skin off too!"
Today was the turn of the wine tour. I wake up early and discover it's pouring down outside. Glad I've got the wine tour booked, getting merry on pinot noir sounds like an excellent way to spend a rainy day. "Oh, there will be plenty of old men with grey hair, beards and moobs so you'll enjoy that," Shin says as I'm leaving.
I get picked up by Wendy and meet my fellow quaffers Brett and Anne from Ontario. We're joined by 2 girls from Cork and Honeymooners Bill and Nicole from Chicago. We head to the Peregrine winery where we sample 2 rieslings (which are bone dry and all the better for it in my opinion), a pinot gris (which smells and tastes of pineapple) and 2 pinot noirs. Everyone seems nice, but quiet and subdued.
By the second winery, it's all change. Raucous! We get to try a sweet riesling, an oaked Chardonnay and an unoaked one and 2 more pinot noir. We sit down for lunch (breads, salami, chorizo, houmous, sun-dried tomato pesto, cherry chutney - delicious). I have a glass of the 2004 reserve pinot noir and Anne and I find we like the same kind of wines. "Bigger the better," I say. "In fact, I like them so big you need a note from your mum to drink them." Anne thinks this is hilarious and writes it down. "I'm going to use that," She tells Brett. I tell her I'm available on a retainer basis.
I'm feeling all warm and bendy so have gone into 'holding court' mode and am telling stories and laughing at my own jokes. I'm glad Sinead isn't here - she'd be mortified and probably slap me.
At the Rockburn winery, we're treated to an impromptu tour of the production site by Malcolm the winemaker. He's really down to earth and is able to answer my question about compensating for the air in screw caps versus corks. Cool. Their 2006 Pinot Noir is a knock-out, but unfortunately they don't yet have a distributor in the UK.
Finally, we stop at the Farm and try their bubbles and 4 other wines of our choosing. I opt for the 2004 & 2005 Pinot Gris and the Viper & the Tiger pinot noirs - though to be honest I'm finding it more and more difficult to discern the differences! Hee hee hee.
I ask Wendy to stop off at a road-side fruit seller so I can buy some of their big juicy cherries. Amazing. You get about 200 in a bag and they only cost about 1.50 GBP. Last time I bought cherries M&S charged me seven quid!!
Did some shopping in Untouched World and resisted buying a cool pair of red shoes. About to join the Shinbob for a drink and a bit of the Australian Open.
My first activity was the paragliding. I'll admit I felt a little bit nauseous as we were making our way to the Skyline Gondola. Walking past Harry's Bar at 10am, I couldn't help but hear they were blasting out 'Knocking on Heaven's Door'. "I hope that's not a warning," I said to Shin.
At the top of the mountain, I meet Brady - my pilot. We trek even further up the mountain and arrive at the open top. It looks really, really high. Brady gets me suited up, sticks a crash helmet on me, then begins sorting out the parachute. He explains that when he tells me to, he wants me to start walking, then running. Apparently, I've to keep running until there's no ground under my feet.
"So, basically, Brady, you want me to just run off the side of this mountain?"
"That's it Lis. Easy as that."
"So, eh, just ... em... off... the eh...the em... mountain?" I'm gesturing and giving plenty of assertive head nods but I'm totally nervous.
Shin is bouncing about like a happy hobbit. "Ha ha, you look like a nut case in that gear Lis." "Shut it, so do you." Shin spots Glenda, a 75 year old going for it too. "Oh she's so cute," Shin exclaims, "Look at her wee shoes."
Glenda goes first. Gav and Brady basically throw Glenda and her pilot off the mountain. But it's all going well and I can hear Glenda making positive sounds up in the air.
"OK Lis, because you're 50 years younger, you don't get any help," says Brady.
"So I'm ...em ...with the ... the em ... running thing... right?"
"OK Lis, you're a legend babe. Start walking."
I do and I feel the pull of the chute behind me. I keep going.
"Run baby run!" Brady shouts excitedly.
I do. I keep running. I run right off the mountain. I keep running til Brady points out I'm running on fresh air and I can sit back and enjoy the ride. How cool is this. It's amazing. I feel fantastic. So smooth. The whole town opens up beneath me. Like way, way beneath me. I start speaking like Brady.
"This is awesome." I shout
"Dude." He says in agreement.
The next day is river surfing. At 9am we drive to the start of the route. Another day, another chance for me to put on a wetsuit and risk some more bruises. Shin, wisely, has decided to give it a miss and is snoozing in her bed as I jump 25 ft off some rocks into the freezing cold river. Bjorn and Thomas - the guides are pretty hands off and basically let us get on with it.
My experience with activities is that they are never as scary or full on as they seem. I take all that back now. Grade 4 rapids - totally terrifying! I get sucked down into whirlpools and crash over some surprisingly big waves. It's exhilarating stuff - especially when I manage to surf along one of the waves.
Annoyingly, a Spanish woman surfs over the top of me and traps me under water. I can't surface. I get sucked down further. In desperation, I let go of my board, turn into the Hulk and propel myself out of the water. I don't know if I roared out loud, but I definitely did on the inside. The Spanish woman says "Sorry" and, despite the fact that she just nearly killed me, I smile back and say "It's fine. Don't worry about it."
The river goes quiet again and I float for a bit. It's the same place they filmed Lord of the Rings where Frodo sails past the pillars of the Kings. Cool as anything.
Bjorn and Thomas take us out of the river to show us the next stage of our journey. "This is the Chinese Dogleg." I look down and see about a mile of furious rapids crashing over rocks and forming big waves and little whirlpools. They've got to be kidding. But apparently they're not. "OK guys - upstream and out, downstream onto the first wave, barrel-roll the second, duck-dive the third then stay left as the river splits and we don't want to lose anyone."
3 waves? I can see about 20. I'm so not going to get this right. We head out and my heart is pumping full on as I face down the first set of waves. Miraculously, I manage it. Bjorn decides I'm fine and goes off to the aid of one of the others. I'm kicking left like he told me. Kicking left, left, left.
Suddenly Thomas is roaring at me to go right. Apparently I've gone too far left. I turn and kick and kick but the river is far too strong and it's just carrying me where it wants.
"Right, right, right," Thomas is still roaring. "You're going to hit the rocks."
I can see I'm going to hit the rocks. They're right in front of me and I can't move.
"You'll hit the rocks Lisa."
"I know," I shout back at him.
"Are you kicking?"
No Thomas, I'm just lying here like it's a lilo not bothering about the impending doom I see before me ... "of course, I'm fu*king kicking!"
As I start to go over the first of the rocks his face crumples into a look that says 'I'm not sure I'll be able to recover all the parts of your body.' It all happens really quickly and the only thing I'm aware of is some kind of tearing on my right hand which is under the board.
I get through it and Thomas looks both amazed and relieved. He grabs me and pulls me into the middle of the river. We're not in the middle of some grade 3 rapids which feels like a holiday compared to the Chinese Dogleg. I make it to the end of the course before everyone else - so I guess my shortcut over the rocks helped. My fingers are missing quite a lot of skin and bleeding quite a lot, but I feel great.
Telling Shin about it later, she asks with a chuckle: "So, would you say you enjoyed it?"
"I know it sounds utterly perverse given what I've just told you, but yeah, I really did!" What a weirdo!
In the evening I realise that all my muscles are aching and my right ankle is really sore. I explain to Shin that I broke my left ankle when I fell off a hill in Skye and my right one now does all the work (though it's still carrying that injury from the coconut). It was clearly exhausted by the kicking in the flippers. After some harassment, Shin agrees to rotate it for me and make it crack. She has to put on her music so she won't hear it, but when it does crack she feels it and screams then refuses to do it again. "You need Jo, Lis. She'd love doing that. She'd peel all your skin off too!"
Today was the turn of the wine tour. I wake up early and discover it's pouring down outside. Glad I've got the wine tour booked, getting merry on pinot noir sounds like an excellent way to spend a rainy day. "Oh, there will be plenty of old men with grey hair, beards and moobs so you'll enjoy that," Shin says as I'm leaving.
I get picked up by Wendy and meet my fellow quaffers Brett and Anne from Ontario. We're joined by 2 girls from Cork and Honeymooners Bill and Nicole from Chicago. We head to the Peregrine winery where we sample 2 rieslings (which are bone dry and all the better for it in my opinion), a pinot gris (which smells and tastes of pineapple) and 2 pinot noirs. Everyone seems nice, but quiet and subdued.
By the second winery, it's all change. Raucous! We get to try a sweet riesling, an oaked Chardonnay and an unoaked one and 2 more pinot noir. We sit down for lunch (breads, salami, chorizo, houmous, sun-dried tomato pesto, cherry chutney - delicious). I have a glass of the 2004 reserve pinot noir and Anne and I find we like the same kind of wines. "Bigger the better," I say. "In fact, I like them so big you need a note from your mum to drink them." Anne thinks this is hilarious and writes it down. "I'm going to use that," She tells Brett. I tell her I'm available on a retainer basis.
I'm feeling all warm and bendy so have gone into 'holding court' mode and am telling stories and laughing at my own jokes. I'm glad Sinead isn't here - she'd be mortified and probably slap me.
At the Rockburn winery, we're treated to an impromptu tour of the production site by Malcolm the winemaker. He's really down to earth and is able to answer my question about compensating for the air in screw caps versus corks. Cool. Their 2006 Pinot Noir is a knock-out, but unfortunately they don't yet have a distributor in the UK.
Finally, we stop at the Farm and try their bubbles and 4 other wines of our choosing. I opt for the 2004 & 2005 Pinot Gris and the Viper & the Tiger pinot noirs - though to be honest I'm finding it more and more difficult to discern the differences! Hee hee hee.
I ask Wendy to stop off at a road-side fruit seller so I can buy some of their big juicy cherries. Amazing. You get about 200 in a bag and they only cost about 1.50 GBP. Last time I bought cherries M&S charged me seven quid!!
Did some shopping in Untouched World and resisted buying a cool pair of red shoes. About to join the Shinbob for a drink and a bit of the Australian Open.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
It Gets Cold in the Desert
About an hour outside of Vegas, I was sitting on the plane's emergency chute storage box rotating my ankles and looking out of the window at the land below. I've never seen anything like it before. The landscape was just so different, I felt a million miles away from home. Result!When the plane landed I couldn't contain my giggles. The Las Vegas strip was in plain view and it looked mental. A pyramid, Eiffel Tower, New York skyline and a rollercoaster. Brilliant!
We caught a cab to our hotel and the driver pointed out some good eateries, bars and shopping malls. Bring it on. He also told us we could drink cocktails in the street and in cabs if we wanted to.
Our hotel, the Flamingo, is in a prime spot - just across from Caesar's Palace and the Bellagio. It's also hilariously kitsch. Faux marble and gold circa '62. We queued to check in and checked out the guests. People were dressed very casually - in jogging suits and pjamas - and the staff really weren't wearing much of anything. The women serving drinks and cigarettes were walking about in suit jackets, flesh coloured tights and stilettos. And nothing else! "You'd have to be really confident to walk about wearing that," Sinead offered. "I mean, they must know they're just wearing jackets. It's not like you'd ever leave the house, get to work and go 'oh look, I've just come out in my tights!"
We got to the front of the check-in queue where we met Michelle. "Would you like 2 queen beds or 1 king?" Michelle asked. "2 queens please," I said before turning to Sinead and saying "sorry". Michelle started laughing, but Sinead had been unprepared for my mischief and looked stunned. Michelle suddenly stopped laughing, obviously thinking poor Sinead had been unceremoniously dumped in reception. As we walked off to our room, Sinead said "you're a total bitch. Michelle thinks I'm some kind of bunny-boiling lesbo now." Mwa ha ha ha! Though I'm now holidaying in fear of retaliation from Sinead.
We opted to stay up and try to go the distance rather than falling asleep. Feeling refreshed after hot showers, we got dressed and went out for food. We immediately became aware of a number of things:
We caught a cab to our hotel and the driver pointed out some good eateries, bars and shopping malls. Bring it on. He also told us we could drink cocktails in the street and in cabs if we wanted to.
Our hotel, the Flamingo, is in a prime spot - just across from Caesar's Palace and the Bellagio. It's also hilariously kitsch. Faux marble and gold circa '62. We queued to check in and checked out the guests. People were dressed very casually - in jogging suits and pjamas - and the staff really weren't wearing much of anything. The women serving drinks and cigarettes were walking about in suit jackets, flesh coloured tights and stilettos. And nothing else! "You'd have to be really confident to walk about wearing that," Sinead offered. "I mean, they must know they're just wearing jackets. It's not like you'd ever leave the house, get to work and go 'oh look, I've just come out in my tights!"
We got to the front of the check-in queue where we met Michelle. "Would you like 2 queen beds or 1 king?" Michelle asked. "2 queens please," I said before turning to Sinead and saying "sorry". Michelle started laughing, but Sinead had been unprepared for my mischief and looked stunned. Michelle suddenly stopped laughing, obviously thinking poor Sinead had been unceremoniously dumped in reception. As we walked off to our room, Sinead said "you're a total bitch. Michelle thinks I'm some kind of bunny-boiling lesbo now." Mwa ha ha ha! Though I'm now holidaying in fear of retaliation from Sinead.
We opted to stay up and try to go the distance rather than falling asleep. Feeling refreshed after hot showers, we got dressed and went out for food. We immediately became aware of a number of things:
- It was absolutely baltic!!! like 6 degrees!!! Totally didn't pack for that and had to go to Gap to get a hoodie and a scarf. This also meant that I could pretty much only wear this for my whole time in Vegas. Nice!
- Nobody dresses up (no bad thing considering I'm too cold to take my hoodie off. "Hello Vegas, here are my nipples."). The slot machine junkies all wear velour jogging suits or pjamas. The hotels encourage this by selling them in the gift shops.
- The hotels are massive and it's impossible to find your way out. We regularly spend 20 plus minutes just trying to get out of the casino areas.
- We're so used to there being no smoking in public places that we take some sort of chemical reaction to it. Gambling and smoking seem to go together so we spend most of our time coughing and squinting our way through the casinos looking for an exit.
Anyway, we headed out to the Fashion Show Mall as we both fancied steak and I'd read about a good place called the Capital Grille (it's fancy cause they've added an 'e' on the end). We found it - eventually - though I could no longer feel my hands or feet. My medium-rare fillet mignon was perfection and a bottle of Frog's Leap zinfandel was smooth as you like. By coffee, we were both wilting and needed some sleep. "I can't walk back without a coat, hat, scarf and gloves," I said. "Me neither, let's get some clothes in the mall." It was 10pm and the shops we all still open. I love this place. I got a massively thick Hollister hoodie but we decided to get a cab back anyway.
We got up at 7am the next day and headed to the Bellagio for a buffet breakfast. We stocked up on loads of fresh fruit. I got a made-to-order omellette, followed by more fruit. Thoroughly stuffed, we set off. First stop was the Moroccan-themed mall where I bought a big man's scarf from Gap. I added this to the Hollister hoodie I was wearing. At least now I was able to go outside. Sinead saved me from foolishly buying a new camera by suggesting it was probably the batteries on their way out. So I bought new batteries instead. Whadda ya know, it now worked fine.
We went to New York New York - one of the hotels further south on the strip. It's hip and funky and it has a roller coaster. We paid our $15 and waited for the front seats. As the safety harness came down I said: "I've just realised it's five years since I've been on one of these. I feel older. I feel like I'm going to have to scream." "Don't be a woose Lis. No screaming OK?" As the car started its ascent I looked around. All I could see was mountains and desert - how surreal. Then came the massive drop. Suddenly Sinead started screaming and I couldn't stop laughing. There was a loop, a hang, a barrel-roll and a vortex. Excellent.
From there we progressed down the strip, going into all the hotels. We found it difficult to take it all in. Everything is huge and sumptuous and busy and noisy and totally fascinating. We realised that neither of us get the gambling thing. Maybe if I could play poker or black jack or something, but definitely not sitting at the slots constantly feeding coins in and hitting random buttons. Some people are literally plugged into the machines (they have little cards on extendable chains). I don't get the appeal but millions of people do so maybe I'm missing something.
We got half price tickets and went to see Legends in Concert. Free cocktail on arrival - quality. Ray Charles, The Supremes, Tom Jones and Elvis. The guy playing Elvis was totally hot and the guy playing Tom Jones was a sleaze and grossed me out, but not as much as a picutre of the real Tom Jones squatting in a pair of black speedos that they showed on a big screen while the guy was singing. I'm still having nightmares! Put it away Jones.
Get this, we took an early morning helicopter out to the Grand Canyon for a champagne breakfast. The most amazing experience of my life (and I've done a lot of drugs). We landed beside the Colorado River and took in the views. I can't even begin to do it justice. Awe-inspiring, spectacular, humbling, mad ...
Also went for a luxury spa at the Paris Hotel. Crazy experience which I will write up in more detail when I get a chance. Went to see the dancing fountains in front of the Bellagio. Totally beautiful. They did it to 'O Holy Night', nice and Christmassy.Went to the Celine Dion Shop. Hilarious. What a lot of shit. I can't believe that anyone buys any of that trash.
Loads more to tell you but in short it was totally surreal. I loved it. Not a fan of the gambling or casino stuff, but thought everything else was ace and had a blast.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Seasonal Accounting Defecit
January is the worst month and if I could, I would replace it with a better one. A month in Jamaica perhaps. But since I can't, I've developed my own method of coping with it. This includes booking a week's holiday in Santorini (with a moped and 5 days of scuba diving) and the planning of a 5 week round-the-world trip with stops in Las Vegas-San Francisco-The Cook Islands-New Zealand-Australia-and Kuala Lumpur. The only downside is that I'm about to start pushing drugs to school kids in order to fund this.
I drew a life map to help me discover/focus on what it is I want to achieve in the short-medium term. This is what I came up with:
I drew a life map to help me discover/focus on what it is I want to achieve in the short-medium term. This is what I came up with:
- Fitter (happier) healthier - my gym sessions and seed consumption, I feel, is an excellent start.
- Get a grip on finances - desperately needed since I have no concept of budget - at all. I once queried with exasperation the price of my weekly grocery shop. The checkout assistant leaned forward and pointed out, in conspiratorial whisper, that I'd spent £16 on fruit juices. I now drink a lot more tap water and blend my own smoothies. Still, there's a long way to go.
- Travel - This is mainly why the point above is so important. I want to be able to take at least one fantastic and far-flung trip every year. This year OZ, next year South America.
- Writing - Must, must, must finish writing book. Fingers crossed this will lead to Jessica Fletcher-style life of glamour, wealth and intrigue. Though, hopefully, point 1 in this list will mean that the glamour is less mauve tapered trousers with elasticated waists, and more Nicole Fahri evening dresses. And that, facially, I won't resemble an over-stewed teabag. (Note to self: extra suncream whilst travelling.)
- Back to Uni - For a conversion course in something more useful like psychology. I've realised I quite enjoy talking to people and it would be good if I could do this for a living (if Jessica Fletcher thing doesn't come off right away). I figure if I become a psychological counsellor, I'd have a job I enjoy more and also a potentially fantastic source of information for my books.
So that's pretty much what the life map looks like. I think the financial stuff underpins it all though, so I'm currently looking at ways to boost my income. I underwent a financial review at my bank last week. I'd pre-empted the pain by doing a thorough review myself beforehand - scary stuff. At the bank, I was asked a series of questions about my aspirations. Luckily, I'd already mapped out my life and knew that "maintaining current lifestyle and travelling" was all I was really interested in. They asked how much I'd need for my holidays and I took a rough guess at about £3K - £4k. Needless to say, their little graphs came back with a shortfall in the short-, medium- and long-term. But this was obvious as all I'd done was tell them that I wanted to spend more money than I actually had - duh! So I need to get a pay rise of more than 5K (after tax) or work an extra 20 hours a week, every week, for a year. That's actually quite depressing, because the first one doesn't have a snowball's chance in Hades and the second one would involve more work. Hmm.
That said, I do feel a whole lot better for knowing what I want and what I have to do to achieve it. Which is about all there is to smile about given the utter shitness of this weather.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Oh Henri!
I spent the week before Christmas in New York. It was a gift from my parents - not that they were banishing me or anything (although, at times I'm sure that would have been preferable for them), it was a family holiday.
It was my brother's first time in NYC so we did the Empire State and Statue of Liberty thing, but the weather was much nicer than last time so I didn't mind too much. We went to the Top of the Rock too, which was really good. I finally made it to Katz's Deli for pastrami on rye and a cherry soda - unbelievably good, and generally got to know the place much better than in previous visits.
In my experience, when faced with the New York welcome the trick is to maintain a poker-face and resist the urge to lash out while the rudest person in the world checks your passport. I swear, if they'd used staff from New York's airports as immigration officials on Ellis Island, most of the immigrants would have turned right around and sailed 12 weeks back across the Atlantic.
On my last trip, I encountered Sherrondah. She works behind the Ground Transportation desk at Newark. Upstairs, I'd purchased my ticket for the bus into the city and was told that Sherrondah would point me in the right direction regarding which stance to catch the bus. I made my way downstairs and asked Sherrondah my question. This is what happened:
Sherrondah: "They told y'upstairs."
Me: "Er... no. They didn't."
Sherrondah: "Yess dey dit."
Me: "No, they really didn't."
Sherrondah (with the irritating snake-neck popularised by the Riki Lake show): "Mmm, uh-huh, yess dey dit."
Me: "No ... they ... did ... not."
Sherrondah: "Mmm, uh-huh, yess dey dit."
Me: "You're clearly mistaken Sherrondah because if you really did have such powers of insight you wouldn't be stuck sitting on your fat ass behind the Ground Transportation desk at the FUCKING AIRPORT!!!"
This time I flew into JFK and was hoping things would be different. Not so. Enter Lapuzzo, the immigration officer. I swear he took 20 minutes to check four passports and take our index fingerprints, treating us like complete morons in the process. "M'am ... I nee-eed you (pointing at me) to place ... your (pointing at me again) RIGHT ... INDEX ... FINGER ... HERE (pointing at the touchpad)." I did so. After 20 seconds, Lapuzzo nodded - slowly - and said: "Goooood".
Oh ... my ... God!!!!
On our last day in NY, we all went our separate ways: my mum to Macy's, my brother to Bloomingdales, me to Fifth Avenue, and my dad to the Celtic supporters' club.
I visited Henri Bendel to buy some presents - mostly for myself. It's the most perfect place I've ever been. I floated around in a state of pure bliss. I stocked up on some M.A.C items, got a gorgeous grey merino cardigan and a Lotus home fragrance candle for Mog. I took Mog's pressie up to the third floor to have it gift wrapped and experienced a moment of unequaled pleasure. I used to think women who said shopping was better than sex just didn't know how good sex could be. Henri changed my mind.
It was my brother's first time in NYC so we did the Empire State and Statue of Liberty thing, but the weather was much nicer than last time so I didn't mind too much. We went to the Top of the Rock too, which was really good. I finally made it to Katz's Deli for pastrami on rye and a cherry soda - unbelievably good, and generally got to know the place much better than in previous visits.
In my experience, when faced with the New York welcome the trick is to maintain a poker-face and resist the urge to lash out while the rudest person in the world checks your passport. I swear, if they'd used staff from New York's airports as immigration officials on Ellis Island, most of the immigrants would have turned right around and sailed 12 weeks back across the Atlantic.
On my last trip, I encountered Sherrondah. She works behind the Ground Transportation desk at Newark. Upstairs, I'd purchased my ticket for the bus into the city and was told that Sherrondah would point me in the right direction regarding which stance to catch the bus. I made my way downstairs and asked Sherrondah my question. This is what happened:
Sherrondah: "They told y'upstairs."
Me: "Er... no. They didn't."
Sherrondah: "Yess dey dit."
Me: "No, they really didn't."
Sherrondah (with the irritating snake-neck popularised by the Riki Lake show): "Mmm, uh-huh, yess dey dit."
Me: "No ... they ... did ... not."
Sherrondah: "Mmm, uh-huh, yess dey dit."
Me: "You're clearly mistaken Sherrondah because if you really did have such powers of insight you wouldn't be stuck sitting on your fat ass behind the Ground Transportation desk at the FUCKING AIRPORT!!!"
This time I flew into JFK and was hoping things would be different. Not so. Enter Lapuzzo, the immigration officer. I swear he took 20 minutes to check four passports and take our index fingerprints, treating us like complete morons in the process. "M'am ... I nee-eed you (pointing at me) to place ... your (pointing at me again) RIGHT ... INDEX ... FINGER ... HERE (pointing at the touchpad)." I did so. After 20 seconds, Lapuzzo nodded - slowly - and said: "Goooood".
Oh ... my ... God!!!!
On our last day in NY, we all went our separate ways: my mum to Macy's, my brother to Bloomingdales, me to Fifth Avenue, and my dad to the Celtic supporters' club.
I visited Henri Bendel to buy some presents - mostly for myself. It's the most perfect place I've ever been. I floated around in a state of pure bliss. I stocked up on some M.A.C items, got a gorgeous grey merino cardigan and a Lotus home fragrance candle for Mog. I took Mog's pressie up to the third floor to have it gift wrapped and experienced a moment of unequaled pleasure. I used to think women who said shopping was better than sex just didn't know how good sex could be. Henri changed my mind.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
ok so, Hong Kong was good (Part 2)
I slid my fankled feet into a pair of flip flops and covered this monstrosity with a very long dress. What the hay! We dined at 'Dong' before heading down to the Peninsula Hotel to partake of a few champagne cocktails in the Felix bar. The place was uber-cool with amazing views across the harbour to Hong Kong Island.
On day 2, I tried my hand at haggling (though enjoyed more success when I communicated verbally). I went into a shop just off Nathan Road to get a memory stick for my camera. The over-zealous sales assistant told me I had "lovely temples". "Excuse me?" came my rather shocked response. "Your temples," he tried again, "are lovely. Beautiful temples. Very big." I was about to get up and leave when it dawned on me that he meant 'dimples'. "Aahh dimples!" I smiled back, "yes, thank you."
The dimples got me in trouble later that day when I made my perpetual mistake of smiling and saying hello to the wrong person, who then followed us around for about an hour and sat two rows behind us on the Star Ferry back to Kowloon.
High tea at the Peninsula Hotel was a wonderful treat. It was very old school with the waiting staff in colonial style uniforms. We partook of a lovely pot of Afternoon Tea and several fancies. My feet thanked me privately for the rest.
Day 3 was full-on and whatever love-fest my feet and I engaged in the previous day was gone. We visited the Bank of China tower, caught the tram up to the Peak, took a sangpang ride at Aberdeen Harbour. It was all very authentic and traditional, apart from the fact that the fisherman spent the majority of the time on his mobile phone. We caught the bus to the ferry terminal, took a tram to a temple, trampled along the world's longest sky-walk and stopped in at the museum of tea; where I learned about the ancient art of tea-making and Steve Irwin's unfortunate death (I was going to use the word 'untimely' but then I remembered the things this man used to do with crocodiles and snakes - strewth!). After some very authentic cusine (crispy fried duck - skin only? I'll pass on that thanks.) I actually hobbled back to the hotel. My feet had become so swollen that my sandals had cut into the skin leaving a sore, and very red, welt that ran half way around my foot. I looked like I'd escpaed from a chain gang. To make matters worse, the extreme humidity had resulted in not only a shocker of a demi-wave, but some thigh-chafing - aow, aow, aow.
Next up:
We play ping pong in Bangkok
& Break the bank at Vertigo.
On day 2, I tried my hand at haggling (though enjoyed more success when I communicated verbally). I went into a shop just off Nathan Road to get a memory stick for my camera. The over-zealous sales assistant told me I had "lovely temples". "Excuse me?" came my rather shocked response. "Your temples," he tried again, "are lovely. Beautiful temples. Very big." I was about to get up and leave when it dawned on me that he meant 'dimples'. "Aahh dimples!" I smiled back, "yes, thank you."
The dimples got me in trouble later that day when I made my perpetual mistake of smiling and saying hello to the wrong person, who then followed us around for about an hour and sat two rows behind us on the Star Ferry back to Kowloon.
High tea at the Peninsula Hotel was a wonderful treat. It was very old school with the waiting staff in colonial style uniforms. We partook of a lovely pot of Afternoon Tea and several fancies. My feet thanked me privately for the rest.
Day 3 was full-on and whatever love-fest my feet and I engaged in the previous day was gone. We visited the Bank of China tower, caught the tram up to the Peak, took a sangpang ride at Aberdeen Harbour. It was all very authentic and traditional, apart from the fact that the fisherman spent the majority of the time on his mobile phone. We caught the bus to the ferry terminal, took a tram to a temple, trampled along the world's longest sky-walk and stopped in at the museum of tea; where I learned about the ancient art of tea-making and Steve Irwin's unfortunate death (I was going to use the word 'untimely' but then I remembered the things this man used to do with crocodiles and snakes - strewth!). After some very authentic cusine (crispy fried duck - skin only? I'll pass on that thanks.) I actually hobbled back to the hotel. My feet had become so swollen that my sandals had cut into the skin leaving a sore, and very red, welt that ran half way around my foot. I looked like I'd escpaed from a chain gang. To make matters worse, the extreme humidity had resulted in not only a shocker of a demi-wave, but some thigh-chafing - aow, aow, aow.
Next up:
We play ping pong in Bangkok
& Break the bank at Vertigo.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
ok so, Hong Kong was good
Part 1
On Friday 1st September, I got up at the frightful time of 05:45. My flight wasn't until 1pm, but I had some copywriting to do for a dearly valued client. I finished it, emailed it and shutdown the laptop just in time to dance around to Scissor Sisters on Radio Two.
Now, last year I went to Mexico with 14 pairs of shoes, 8 books (2 hardbacks) and a clothes mountain the European Union could have used to dress the entire population of Bosnia (though they do seem to prefer those 80's numbers. I remember seeing some Bosnian refugees on a news item one night and mistook it as confirmation that the cast of FAME were reuniting). My case weighed in at 32kg. It was not something I wanted to repeat this year. So, I packed only 3 pairs of shoes, 1 book, and a small selection of clothes that I conceded would render me neither well nor properly dressed. My case weighed in at 26kg. How disappointing! So much sacrifice and still classified as 'heavy'. It seems packing has more in common with dieting than I'd previously realised (or, indeed, ever thought about).
At the airport my case was labelled orange and 'heavy', and we were on our way. After a short wait in London, we were Hong Kong bound. I looked down at my boarding pass where it had the words 'world traveller' after my name. How very appropriate; it sent me into a state of acute giddiness. Of course, 'world traveller' is British Airways' way of saying 'plebian, economy, schemie, steerage girl', but it is definitely a nicer way of saying it and I felt good about myself as I adjusted my slightly longer-than-average femora into my incredibly cramped seat.
Five hours into the flight my ankles felt funny. Kinda, well, ... tight. I got up to do some exercises at the back of the plane where I discovered that my ankles had in fact swelled to three times their normal size. They were sore and movement was limited, and I felt like a candidate on 'Diet Doctors'.
I fell asleep on the way from the airport to the hotel (most probably avec ma bouche ouvrez-vous) and was reliably informed that we'd crossed the longest road and rail carrying suspension bridge in the world (Tsing Ma Bridge). Upon arrival at the Hotel on Kowloon, I whipped off my clothes, put my PJ's on and snuggled into bed. Waking up some four hours later, I was stunned by the size of my ankles. I swear to God, with a pair of American Tan tights and some brogues I would have passed as an 80 year old. My comments met with agreeable laughter.
In Part Two
How will our heroine cope with fankles?
Why are the Hong Kongers so fascinated with her 'temples'?
and will she get a decent cup of tea?
Stay tuned!
On Friday 1st September, I got up at the frightful time of 05:45. My flight wasn't until 1pm, but I had some copywriting to do for a dearly valued client. I finished it, emailed it and shutdown the laptop just in time to dance around to Scissor Sisters on Radio Two.
Now, last year I went to Mexico with 14 pairs of shoes, 8 books (2 hardbacks) and a clothes mountain the European Union could have used to dress the entire population of Bosnia (though they do seem to prefer those 80's numbers. I remember seeing some Bosnian refugees on a news item one night and mistook it as confirmation that the cast of FAME were reuniting). My case weighed in at 32kg. It was not something I wanted to repeat this year. So, I packed only 3 pairs of shoes, 1 book, and a small selection of clothes that I conceded would render me neither well nor properly dressed. My case weighed in at 26kg. How disappointing! So much sacrifice and still classified as 'heavy'. It seems packing has more in common with dieting than I'd previously realised (or, indeed, ever thought about).
At the airport my case was labelled orange and 'heavy', and we were on our way. After a short wait in London, we were Hong Kong bound. I looked down at my boarding pass where it had the words 'world traveller' after my name. How very appropriate; it sent me into a state of acute giddiness. Of course, 'world traveller' is British Airways' way of saying 'plebian, economy, schemie, steerage girl', but it is definitely a nicer way of saying it and I felt good about myself as I adjusted my slightly longer-than-average femora into my incredibly cramped seat.
Five hours into the flight my ankles felt funny. Kinda, well, ... tight. I got up to do some exercises at the back of the plane where I discovered that my ankles had in fact swelled to three times their normal size. They were sore and movement was limited, and I felt like a candidate on 'Diet Doctors'.
I fell asleep on the way from the airport to the hotel (most probably avec ma bouche ouvrez-vous) and was reliably informed that we'd crossed the longest road and rail carrying suspension bridge in the world (Tsing Ma Bridge). Upon arrival at the Hotel on Kowloon, I whipped off my clothes, put my PJ's on and snuggled into bed. Waking up some four hours later, I was stunned by the size of my ankles. I swear to God, with a pair of American Tan tights and some brogues I would have passed as an 80 year old. My comments met with agreeable laughter.
In Part Two
Stay tuned!
Monday, September 25, 2006
The World Traveller returneth
Hello. I am in a state of lovely, yummy bliss. I got back to Edinburgh last week and have been walking on a cloud ever since. Hmmmm, niceness.
Unfortunately, my laptop has decided that it doesn't like me quite so chilled-out and has wantonly caught some nasty computer virus, now informing me that it plans to remain shut-down for the purpose of self-protection. Surely, as the owner of said laptop, it's for me to decide whether or not it should be protected? Have I done such an awful job taking care of it, that it has had to take matters into its own cursors? Anyway, as a result, I'm writing this from work. Naughty.
Last week was mostly spent working and sleeping. As a rule, I'm never in bed before midnight, but since returning from holiday I've enjoyed some marathon slumber sessions. On Monday, I retired at 3pm and slept until 6am on Tuesday. On Thursday, I was snuggled up by 8:30pm and on Friday by 9pm. Now, this is good in the sense that I resolved to get more sleep as part of my spa journey - rethink my life sessions, but bad in the sense that I'm not 90. I think there's room for a bit of balance here.
I also vowed to obliterate the following things from my life: CSI (in all its ghastly forms); Air Crash Investigation/Seconds from Disaster (No, the fact that it's on National Geographic does not mean it is a positive force in your life); Columbo (What is wrong with you? You've seen them all twice anyway) and Deal or No Deal (No Deal Noel - unless it's one of the episodes with the rumored jackpot winners).
This should - in theory - leave me with plenty of time in which to update my blog and work on the book. Annoyingly, the laptop isn't playing ball, but I'll still be sure to detail all the best bits from my trip (yes, even the really embarrassing stuff - cringe, cringe).
Unfortunately, my laptop has decided that it doesn't like me quite so chilled-out and has wantonly caught some nasty computer virus, now informing me that it plans to remain shut-down for the purpose of self-protection. Surely, as the owner of said laptop, it's for me to decide whether or not it should be protected? Have I done such an awful job taking care of it, that it has had to take matters into its own cursors? Anyway, as a result, I'm writing this from work. Naughty.
Last week was mostly spent working and sleeping. As a rule, I'm never in bed before midnight, but since returning from holiday I've enjoyed some marathon slumber sessions. On Monday, I retired at 3pm and slept until 6am on Tuesday. On Thursday, I was snuggled up by 8:30pm and on Friday by 9pm. Now, this is good in the sense that I resolved to get more sleep as part of my spa journey - rethink my life sessions, but bad in the sense that I'm not 90. I think there's room for a bit of balance here.
I also vowed to obliterate the following things from my life: CSI (in all its ghastly forms); Air Crash Investigation/Seconds from Disaster (No, the fact that it's on National Geographic does not mean it is a positive force in your life); Columbo (What is wrong with you? You've seen them all twice anyway) and Deal or No Deal (No Deal Noel - unless it's one of the episodes with the rumored jackpot winners).
This should - in theory - leave me with plenty of time in which to update my blog and work on the book. Annoyingly, the laptop isn't playing ball, but I'll still be sure to detail all the best bits from my trip (yes, even the really embarrassing stuff - cringe, cringe).
Saturday, May 20, 2006
(Herpes) Simplex in the city
Upsettingly, the coldsore continued to plague me all last week. On Monday it grew bigger. On Tuesday it grew scabbier. On Wednesday it turned greener and on Thursday I laughed and it got stuck to my top lip and was yanked off. Then it started to bleed. My discomfort was made worse due to the fact that I was in a meeting when this happened. Still it was better than the scab falling into somebody else's tea or - even worse - my own, which had been my primary concern all week.
By the time I landed at Newark on Saturday afternoon, my shameful pox was a rapidly dimming memory. This was partly due to my excitement at being in NYC again and partly due to the amazing powers of Tiger Balm. My Grandma always kept a little jar of Tiger Balm handy. It was administered to my chest when I was suffering with the Cold as a child. It was melted into a bowl of boiling water when my nose was blocked. It was applied to burns and scrapes and scratches, and, by my own hand, it was rubbed liberally around my eyes and nose when I wanted to skip school. Unfortunately, as anyone who has ever come within three feet of the stuff will know, it smells about as medicinal as anything can so my efforts to avoid school never actually succeeded.
Anyway because I'm nostalgic and because the stuff really works, I've always kept a little jar handy too. So, when a colleague at work recommended I use Tiger Balm on my coldsore I saw no reason not to give it a go. I swear this is true, during the course of a seven hour flight my coldsore shrunk to at least a quarter of its original size. Oh miracle balm!
I love New York. Within 10 minutes of walking slowly down the streets and staring up at every building I could, I was fighting the urge to be absorbed into its thronging masses and leave everything else behind. To be honest, this feeling pops up in almost every city I've ever visited, but it's always stronger in the Big Apple. I know I could live there; maybe not forever, but soon and for six months at least.
On Sunday something highly cool happened. First of all, I went to High Mass at St Patrick's (not so cool) where his eminence - el Cardinale - stopped to shake my hand and ask where I was from. I told him, we had a little chat and then he blessed me (This was highly cool - for my gran). Anyway, after Mass I hoofed it up to Times Square because I wanted to buy discount tickets for a show. I really wanted to see Wicked and was disappointed not to see it listed on the tickets board. On asking one of the representatives, they laughed and said they never got Wicked tickets. I decided to walk to the Gershwin where Wicked is playing to see if I could get tickets for the Sunday matinee. There was a queue of people so I got in line. I then overheard the man in front of me explaining to someone that this was the line for the 'lottery'. I asked him what he meant by the 'lottery' and he told me that every show is completely sold out for months and the best hope anyone had of getting a ticket was to enter this lottery. I went up to the desk, wrote my name on a slip of paper and handed it over. The names of the lucky 12 would be called at 1pm. As it was a quarter to, I decided to hang around.
On the hour, the guy spun the barrel and pulled out 12 tickets. There were about 200 people waiting in the hope that they'd hear their name. My name was the eleventh to be called out (Ok, that was the highly cool bit). There was a lot of cheering and congratulating. I showed my ID and collected two front row tickets at a cost of $25 each. Even the cheapest seats are usually $60 so this was a pretty good deal. To top all this, my mum stood in the cancellation line and got the last cancellation ticket - also with a fantastic seat. As I was waiting in the foyer, people kept coming up and saying "congratulations" to me and asking me how I felt. A few people who witnessed this then asked if I was in the show. I felt pretty good and was excited about seeing the show, but felt my response would have been more adequate had I managed to lay my hands on some 'completely-over-the-top-happy pills'.
One of the things I love most about being in America is that I can ham it up and be 'super-happy' and 'super-nice' and no one thinks I'm weird. I sometimes do this here, but people often think I'm taking the piss - which, admittedly, I often am.
The show was a big fat glorious pantomime and I loved every minute of it. It's the story of the Wicked Witch and Glinda the Good before Dorothy showed up in Oz. There weren't too many references or jokes about the film which was good, and when there were they were subtle and clever. Example:
Nessarose: (At party) "What's in this punch?"
Bok: "Apples and lemons and pears."
Nessarose: "Oh my!"
A perfect day was finished off with dinner in a revolving restaurant. I had one frozen raspberry and strawberry margarita and a blueberry and raspberry bellini before dinner, so it was a very, very good meal.
My other highlight was a trip to Serendipity for a Frrrrozen Hot Chocolate. Apparently, they are Oprah's fave and if you saw one you'd understand about the whole yo-yo weight thing. I swear all my efforts at the gym have been completely overwritten by just one these babies. It was so worth it though.
I got a fair amount of shopping in, and with an exchange rate that's just shy of $2 for £1 who wouldn't? I got a gorgeous pair of Cole Haan black thong sandals with $200 off and fabulous bag which I'm totally in love with. On a less pleasing note, I got railroaded by a beauty counter assistant in Bloomingdales who sat me in her chair and told me she knew I used face moisturiser on my delicate eye area (totally true, but who has time to switch moisturisers half way through?). She sold me (I know, I know) some clinical eye gel which she repeatedly assured me would combat the signs of aging. I had made no inquiry as to its anti-aging qualities. Then, while I was still in her chair, she tilted her head to the right and said: "and how are you doing with the rest of your skin care?"
I'm sat there with a smaller but still noticeable coldsore, a number of spots visible to someone in extreme close proximity and some dry patches I attribute to running myself slightly ragged before I left for NY. Still, I didn't want to be sold any more stuff so I mumbled "fine, thanks."
She tilted her head to the left, looked at me sadly and said very sweetly: "Really? You sure honey?"
I resisted and left with my eye gel and credit card intact. My self-esteem did not fare quite so well. However, one wolf-whistle, compliment and harassment for my room number later and I felt a good deal better.
And when I woke up this morning, my coldsore was gone.Unfortunately,the slight rash I discovered around my delicate eye area leads me to suspect that I may be allergic to the eye gel.
By the time I landed at Newark on Saturday afternoon, my shameful pox was a rapidly dimming memory. This was partly due to my excitement at being in NYC again and partly due to the amazing powers of Tiger Balm. My Grandma always kept a little jar of Tiger Balm handy. It was administered to my chest when I was suffering with the Cold as a child. It was melted into a bowl of boiling water when my nose was blocked. It was applied to burns and scrapes and scratches, and, by my own hand, it was rubbed liberally around my eyes and nose when I wanted to skip school. Unfortunately, as anyone who has ever come within three feet of the stuff will know, it smells about as medicinal as anything can so my efforts to avoid school never actually succeeded.
Anyway because I'm nostalgic and because the stuff really works, I've always kept a little jar handy too. So, when a colleague at work recommended I use Tiger Balm on my coldsore I saw no reason not to give it a go. I swear this is true, during the course of a seven hour flight my coldsore shrunk to at least a quarter of its original size. Oh miracle balm!
I love New York. Within 10 minutes of walking slowly down the streets and staring up at every building I could, I was fighting the urge to be absorbed into its thronging masses and leave everything else behind. To be honest, this feeling pops up in almost every city I've ever visited, but it's always stronger in the Big Apple. I know I could live there; maybe not forever, but soon and for six months at least.
On Sunday something highly cool happened. First of all, I went to High Mass at St Patrick's (not so cool) where his eminence - el Cardinale - stopped to shake my hand and ask where I was from. I told him, we had a little chat and then he blessed me (This was highly cool - for my gran). Anyway, after Mass I hoofed it up to Times Square because I wanted to buy discount tickets for a show. I really wanted to see Wicked and was disappointed not to see it listed on the tickets board. On asking one of the representatives, they laughed and said they never got Wicked tickets. I decided to walk to the Gershwin where Wicked is playing to see if I could get tickets for the Sunday matinee. There was a queue of people so I got in line. I then overheard the man in front of me explaining to someone that this was the line for the 'lottery'. I asked him what he meant by the 'lottery' and he told me that every show is completely sold out for months and the best hope anyone had of getting a ticket was to enter this lottery. I went up to the desk, wrote my name on a slip of paper and handed it over. The names of the lucky 12 would be called at 1pm. As it was a quarter to, I decided to hang around.
On the hour, the guy spun the barrel and pulled out 12 tickets. There were about 200 people waiting in the hope that they'd hear their name. My name was the eleventh to be called out (Ok, that was the highly cool bit). There was a lot of cheering and congratulating. I showed my ID and collected two front row tickets at a cost of $25 each. Even the cheapest seats are usually $60 so this was a pretty good deal. To top all this, my mum stood in the cancellation line and got the last cancellation ticket - also with a fantastic seat. As I was waiting in the foyer, people kept coming up and saying "congratulations" to me and asking me how I felt. A few people who witnessed this then asked if I was in the show. I felt pretty good and was excited about seeing the show, but felt my response would have been more adequate had I managed to lay my hands on some 'completely-over-the-top-happy pills'.
One of the things I love most about being in America is that I can ham it up and be 'super-happy' and 'super-nice' and no one thinks I'm weird. I sometimes do this here, but people often think I'm taking the piss - which, admittedly, I often am.
The show was a big fat glorious pantomime and I loved every minute of it. It's the story of the Wicked Witch and Glinda the Good before Dorothy showed up in Oz. There weren't too many references or jokes about the film which was good, and when there were they were subtle and clever. Example:
Nessarose: (At party) "What's in this punch?"
Bok: "Apples and lemons and pears."
Nessarose: "Oh my!"
A perfect day was finished off with dinner in a revolving restaurant. I had one frozen raspberry and strawberry margarita and a blueberry and raspberry bellini before dinner, so it was a very, very good meal.
My other highlight was a trip to Serendipity for a Frrrrozen Hot Chocolate. Apparently, they are Oprah's fave and if you saw one you'd understand about the whole yo-yo weight thing. I swear all my efforts at the gym have been completely overwritten by just one these babies. It was so worth it though.
I got a fair amount of shopping in, and with an exchange rate that's just shy of $2 for £1 who wouldn't? I got a gorgeous pair of Cole Haan black thong sandals with $200 off and fabulous bag which I'm totally in love with. On a less pleasing note, I got railroaded by a beauty counter assistant in Bloomingdales who sat me in her chair and told me she knew I used face moisturiser on my delicate eye area (totally true, but who has time to switch moisturisers half way through?). She sold me (I know, I know) some clinical eye gel which she repeatedly assured me would combat the signs of aging. I had made no inquiry as to its anti-aging qualities. Then, while I was still in her chair, she tilted her head to the right and said: "and how are you doing with the rest of your skin care?"
I'm sat there with a smaller but still noticeable coldsore, a number of spots visible to someone in extreme close proximity and some dry patches I attribute to running myself slightly ragged before I left for NY. Still, I didn't want to be sold any more stuff so I mumbled "fine, thanks."
She tilted her head to the left, looked at me sadly and said very sweetly: "Really? You sure honey?"
I resisted and left with my eye gel and credit card intact. My self-esteem did not fare quite so well. However, one wolf-whistle, compliment and harassment for my room number later and I felt a good deal better.
And when I woke up this morning, my coldsore was gone.Unfortunately,the slight rash I discovered around my delicate eye area leads me to suspect that I may be allergic to the eye gel.
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