AUSTRALIA III: THE CHRISTMAS SPECIAL

Australia! Again!

If I'd made all three of my trips this year with the same airline, I'd probably have about a squillion frequent flyer points. You might remember that my last (non-work) trip to Australia involved five cities in four weeks. Well, this one was four cities in two and a half weeks. I missed out on visiting my beloved Melbourne, but did get Hobart as a very welcome consolation prize.

Brisbane
Poor Brisbane always seems to see the worst of me. When I'm travelling home to see family up north, I usually give myself a day or four in Brisbane to get over the inevitable jetlag. My Brissy friends must see me as someone who's permanently sleepy and confused. Which, to be fair, is not a whole world away from the regular, non-jetlagged me. But still.

I stayed with M again, who has a super-fabulous townhouse in Kelvin Grove and is always great fun to hang out with. She arranged a little 'do' at her place so I could catch up with some of the crew I used to work with when I lived in Bris Vegas in 1998. I'd been in touch on and off over the years with some of them, but hadn't seen any of them recently. It's amazing how little people change over time; it was just like the old days. Brilliant.

Brisbane, however, DOES seem to have changed. It's much improved on the version I remember from thirteen years ago. I found a cool, Melbourne-style bar/cafe that had just opened on Brunswick street, and a laneway bar near the Queen Street mall. It was funky. I like. In fact, I liked both those places so much that I used them as meeting points when catching up with old school friends (one of whom I hadn't seen since - wait for it - 1988).

I had such a good time this trip, better than any other Brisbane visit that I can remember. I saw people I hadn't seen in years, and met a baby cousin and a friend's baby for the first time. I really enjoyed myself and even found myself strangely looking forward to phase two in the trip...

Rockhampton
I spent eight days in Rockhampton which, for anyone who's been there, is a hell of a long time to commit to that place. Still, it was Christmas time and I was excited to see my family. I'd visited on my trip just six months earlier, but I was bursting with anticipation at seeing my gorgeous nephew again, and (hopefully) meeting the other nephew I hadn't been able to see in March. Plus I had a new niece due to be born about the same time I was there, so my fingers were crossed that I could meet her too.

And...I did! She was born the day before I arrived in Rocky, and therefore became the first of my siblings' children to meet me before they'd celebrated their second birthday. One day earlier, and I'd have literally been there for her birth day. Christmas was lots of fun, my nephews are gorgeous. I don't normally like to put family photos on this blog, but you've gotta check out these kids.

Cutest. EVER.

My sister and I took our elder nephew ice skating for the first time in his life. E had fallen asleep in the car on the way there, so we'd left him with mum while we re-acquainted ourselves with the art of staying upright whilst swishing around on ice. When he woke up, he was fascinated by the strange spectacle of people sliding around a rink. I showed him that the floor was made of ice, and he looked suspicious, but was fascinated. It took very little persuasion to get him to strap on some skates, so with each hand being held by one of his aunties, little E did a couple of laps around the ice rink. It was so cool.

It was hard to leave him and his new sister, but it was time to move on to the next stop on my whirlwind tour de oz.

Hobart
Have you even been to Hobart? If not, you really should. It's very pretty.

The reason I went was to visit some really great friends who - due to the tyranny of distance - I hadn't seen in almost exactly five years. The reason I can calculate this so precisely, is because when we last caught up they'd introduced me to their first child - a cuddly and cute six-month old - who was now five and half and had become a big sister three years earlier. Children really have a way of forcing you to recognise the passage of time and the illusion of everlasting youth. I hate that.

I gatecrashed my mates' New Years Eve, which was a degustation dinner where six couples were responsible for cooking one course each and pairing it with a wine. Luckily for all concerned, I was excused from food preparation, though I did contribute some Tasmanian sparkling wine I'd picked up at the Taste festival earlier that day. As you can see from the menu** to the right, the food was amazing.

The evening itself was a little strange, in that everyone except me was part of a close-knit group of friends who'd known each other since school: I felt very much an outsider. Also, everyone else was married with two children and currently buying or renovating property. I actually didn't mind so much being excluded from that part.

Crucifixion as art?

The rest of my time in Tasmania was spent hanging out with my mates, playing with children, visiting a waterfall, and enjoying the many delights that sunny Hobart had to offer. I particularly enjoyed visiting the Museum of Old and New Art (Mona). It's owned by eccentric philanthropist David Walsh and is set in a purpose-built building on the grounds of his Moorilla Estate Winery. The collection is an odd mix that ranges from ancient Egyptian antiquities to modern art, and includes bizarre and disturbing sex-and-death installations and film. It's definitely an experience, and is worth a weekend trip to Hobart for those who live in the southern parts of 'the mainland'.

** there was a robust discussion about whether the menu should have been titled 2012 New Year's Eve rather than 2011. (Correct answer: of COURSE it should have. Don't you agree?).

Sydney
Well, I'm not really sure if I should count Sydney as a proper stop on this trip. I flew back from Hobart just in time to join my sister's birthday celebrations, then flew off to Bangkok the following evening. Then again, that meant I had 24 hours hanging out with my sis so I'd definitely like to count it. I wish she'd move back to London. Actually, I wish that everyone I met on this trip lived closer than 10,000 miles away. What I wouldn't give to have the key to a TARDIS.

Now it's back to a London winter, and counting down the days until August. C'est la vie.

NANOWRIMO 2011

 

 That is all.

AUSTRALIA II: WORKING FOR DA MAN

I thought that my plan to travel to Australia for Christmas, after having only just visited in March/April, was a bit extravagant. I mean, it's not the cheapest, quickest or most pleasant flight on the planet. In fact, it usually takes me at least a year until the memory of that flight fades enough for me to even contemplate booking another. So when I was told by my employer that I had to attend a meeting in Canberra in September, five months after my most recent flight and just two months before my next, I was less than thrilled. Six trans-global economy class flights in under nine months? Surely that counts as a breach of my human rights?

Grainy kangaroo footage

Once I got over my disappointment that the meeting wasn't taking place somewhere closer and more exotic, like Jamaica or Zambia, I eventually managed to muster a small semblance of enthusiasm for the unexpected return to my homeland. Even so, it was tempered by a strong aversion to cramming myself into an economy class seat for 24 sleepless hours, and a fear that I'd be physically unable to arrange the meetings and run the workshop when I landed at the other end.

Regular readers know that jetlag is not my friend. Despite this, I was surprisingly functional and relatively coherent during those first few days. It must have been the fear of performing badly that pushed me through the mind fug of jetlag-induced sleep deprivation. I also found myself unexpectedly enthusiastic about showing my British, African and Caribbean colleagues the joys of Canberra. I suspect that if I'd been there with a bunch of Aussies, I'd have been unable to think of any joys to show them.

They were lucky I found one!

Once my meetings and workshop were over and the international delegates had departed, I was free to catch up with friends. Whilst I had valiantly held jetlag at bay while I was working, it attacked me with a vengeance as soon as I stopped. Jetlag is evil. My brain imploded, I was completely shattered, and I'm afraid my friends didn't get to see the best of me - but I enjoyed myself nonetheless. Hopefully that's some small consolation to those of you who had to suffer me nodding off during the midde of conversations and my inability to string together a complete sentence. Hopefully?

There was NO WAY that I could handle submitting to the return economy class flight just four days after landing, so I had arranged to spend a week with my sister in Sydney. Hooray!

J was at work every day, so most of our activities were evening (and therefore alcohol)-based. She had moved into her own place since my last visit, and proudly took me to some of her favourite Sydney spots. I also dragged her out to introduce her to some of my friends, so we had quite a busy social schedule that week. My favourite day saw us spend the afternoon at an event celebrating Saudi Arabia National Day (the nibblies inexplicably consisted of pies, sandwiches and spring rolls), eat dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant in Newtown, and then head out to an Oktoberfest-themed Beer and Sausage Fundraiser hosted by Tibetan Buddhists. Carniverous and booze-swilling Tibetan Buddhists, evidently.

Breakfast in Sydney, lunch in Saudi Arabia, dinner in Vietnam, supper in Germany, and partying in Tibet. Sydney, eh? Whatta town.

PARIS

I can't believe it took me so long to travel to Paris. J'adore! J'adore!

Actually I know exactly why it took so long. It was a promise that my 8 year-old self made after the French government's appalling bombing of the Rainbow Warrior in Auckland in 1985. I swore that I would never, ever set foot in that country as long as I lived. I also threw out my beloved Bic four-colour retractable ballpoint pen because it had Made in France written on the side. I was young, but I was principled.

So it was the determination and will of that little girl, carried with me as I aged and she drifted into the past, that gave me the self-control to live four years in the UK without once skipping across the Channel to France. Even now, twenty-six years later, a part of me feels really bad for breaking her vow. But there's only so much of "You've never been to Paris?" "You MUST go to Paris" and "Paris is lovely this time of year, want to come?" that one human being can withstand. And word to the wise, younger me, that religious education stuff they're pouring into your brain right now is all bollocks. You should zone out during lessons and use the time more constructively. Learn how to draw.

Anyway, Paris.

It was just a short weekend trip, and I saw nowhere near enough of that lovely city, but it was enough for me to know that I'll have to go back. I went to the Louvre and the marvellous Musée d'Orsay. I spent a half day on a walking tour of the city, and an evening drinking way too much wine in a little café not too far from the Moulin Rouge. Catching up with an expat English friend, we spent another evening drinking yet more wine and dancing to a live jazz band in an underground cavern bar. 

 
C'est très bien!

C'est magnifique!  

C'est Gérard Depardieu! (Sorry. Must learn more French.) 


Au revoir mon ami....