My extreme sport of today was to donate just under a pint of my lovely O-Pos blood to someone who will need it more than I do. T and I were regular donors, in fact we donated just a week or two before T died. I haven't donated since, so figured it was about time I pulled my finger out. I have been liable to faint in the past so I like to go with someone if I can, but today I braved it on my own. And survived. So far anyway.
Amazingly 96% of us rely on the other 4% to give blood. I reckon most of us know someone who has needed blood in the past. Like the organ donation, sadly we never know when we might need to rely on someone else's generosity to help us or someone we love survive. So if you're not already a donor, please consider signing up today: http://www.blood.co.uk/
Friday 28 May 2010
Tuesday 25 May 2010
Job done
I spent Thursday night with T's mum, sister and nephew, Harry. I got there just in time to pick Harry up from school, which is something I've never done before but really enjoyed. It was lovely to see them all again and to catch up on each other's news. On Friday I drove up the road to Sheffield and had lunch with T's step-sister in one of my old haunts from 15 years ago (where has that time gone?), the Nursery Tavern on Ecclesall Road. First of all I had to walk past two other haunts, Champs and the Pomona, to check they were still the same. They are.
It was so weird being back in Sheffield, my home for four years while I was a student. So much has changed. Obviously. But it's all still so familiar. I love it there. I took poor Grace on a scenic tour of all of T and I's Sheffield houses. She didn't know such dodgy areas of the city existed. My first year flats win the prize for dodginess. It's a huge, ugly block of flats in a fairly central but rough part of Sheffield. Student flats were interspersed with normal flats. But the people who lived in these normal flats were typically drug dealers and thieves. Or both in some cases. Our neighbours burgled us over the Easter holidays. We obviously called the police when we got back. They took prints etc etc. Then in the lift the next day, one of my friendly drug dealing, thieving neighbours chanted 'thief dobber' at me until the doors opened on the ground floor. Actually, it was a miracle the lifts were working that day. Normally they were closed off as crime scenes following the previous night's stabbing. You frequently had to step over blood stains. But for some reason, us students didn't seem too phased by it all. I guess it was all we knew. And we still had a great time living there. Happy days.
From Sheffield it was up the A1 to Wensleydale. The weather had been glorious all day but there was a very heavy downpour coming through the Dales. The roads were quite flooded in parts and I was beginning to think that the weather forecasters might have got it wrong for the day of our big walk. 24.5 miles in the torrential rain would not be fun. But by the time I arrived in Askrigg, the rain had almost stopped. Thank goodness.
My alarm went off at 4.55am on Saturday morning. Ouch. It was a lovely morning though - clear skies and already very warm. We set off walking from Horton-in-Ribbledale just before 6.30am. For some reason I can't really remember much of the first peak. Maybe the sleeping tablet I'd taken at midnight was still working its magic. Or maybe by the time we climbed the third peak, 9 or so hours later, my brain had already erased the memory of the first peak. Anyway, I do know that by 7am we'd stripped off to our last layer and had already started to apply the suncream. It was freaking hot. Not the best conditions to be walking in. But we had to get on with it. The first peak came and went quite quickly but there was a long walk to peak two. In fact, the ascents and descents of the three peaks don't actually take very long. It's the distance between the peaks that adds up. But at least that's generally on the flat, down on the valley floor.
Time kept ticking by and as it did, the mercury pushed ever higher. It got to about 30 degrees I reckon. We had to take on a lot of fluids and some people didn't go to the loo from leaving the B&B at 5.30am to getting back at 6pm. A combination of dehydration and sweating it out I guess. Peak two was a bit of a killer. Mainly because we chose to go up the shorter but steeper path. More than one person likened it to climbing up a black ski run. It was hard. 80% of the time I was on my hands and knees scrambling up. I tried sitting down on the slope at one point to rest, but my strange vertigo kicked in and I had to keep going. I've got a thing about sheer drops. Not heights in the traditional sense but sheer things that I'm on, that I feel I could fall off. The good thing about the short, steep ascent was that it was over quickly. Because we were scrambling, our heart rates didn't increase by too much as we were climbing quite slowly so we weren't too shattered when we got to the top.
We had an 8 minute lunch atop peak two. Well, maybe 10 minutes. Time was of the essence. I should mention at this stage that the scenery was spectacular. I hadn't appreciated what a beautiful part of the world Wensleydale is. I'm definitely going back. There's lots of walking to be done and some lovely little villages. I wish T had had the chance to discover it. There are some great motorbike roads. He would have loved it there. And he would have loved the Black Sheep ale too. I sank a pint or two for him while I was there. The other thing to note is that there were thousands of other walkers on the path with us. Like proper bus loads of them. It was a bit like the Inca Trail in that respect. I hadn't expected that and it spoilt it a bit. I like the peace and quiet of walking in remote areas. You don't even need a map to complete this walk. Just follow the hoards ahead of you.
The descent of peak two was hard on the knees but we were soon clear of that one and had our sights on peak three, away over in the distance. We stopped for refreshments at a little stall in a barn. They were doing a roaring trade, not least because they weren't trying to rip walkers off. A pint of iced orange squash was only 80p. They could have charged £3 and they would have still sold like hot cakes. It was nice to see. Peak three's ascent was hard. There was a very steep set of zig-zagging steps/rocks to climb. And it was really really hot. And we were really really tired. But we ploughed on and eventually made it to the top. Three Yorkshire peaks in the bag. Get in. Pleased as Punch we were. There were pats on backs all round and a thought for T, who was greatly missed. The euphoria soon wore off during the 6-mile walk out from peak three. It was the longest 6 miles ever. We were exhausted and hot and most of us were out of water by that stage. Muscles were aching. Blisters were rubbing. Skin was burning. We'd had enough. We eventually limped back into Horton after walking for 10h40m, cursing T for making us take up his challenge. But I don't think any of us had any regrets. It was an amazing day and we felt a huge sense of achievement. No pain no gain as the old adage goes.
It was so weird being back in Sheffield, my home for four years while I was a student. So much has changed. Obviously. But it's all still so familiar. I love it there. I took poor Grace on a scenic tour of all of T and I's Sheffield houses. She didn't know such dodgy areas of the city existed. My first year flats win the prize for dodginess. It's a huge, ugly block of flats in a fairly central but rough part of Sheffield. Student flats were interspersed with normal flats. But the people who lived in these normal flats were typically drug dealers and thieves. Or both in some cases. Our neighbours burgled us over the Easter holidays. We obviously called the police when we got back. They took prints etc etc. Then in the lift the next day, one of my friendly drug dealing, thieving neighbours chanted 'thief dobber' at me until the doors opened on the ground floor. Actually, it was a miracle the lifts were working that day. Normally they were closed off as crime scenes following the previous night's stabbing. You frequently had to step over blood stains. But for some reason, us students didn't seem too phased by it all. I guess it was all we knew. And we still had a great time living there. Happy days.
From Sheffield it was up the A1 to Wensleydale. The weather had been glorious all day but there was a very heavy downpour coming through the Dales. The roads were quite flooded in parts and I was beginning to think that the weather forecasters might have got it wrong for the day of our big walk. 24.5 miles in the torrential rain would not be fun. But by the time I arrived in Askrigg, the rain had almost stopped. Thank goodness.
My alarm went off at 4.55am on Saturday morning. Ouch. It was a lovely morning though - clear skies and already very warm. We set off walking from Horton-in-Ribbledale just before 6.30am. For some reason I can't really remember much of the first peak. Maybe the sleeping tablet I'd taken at midnight was still working its magic. Or maybe by the time we climbed the third peak, 9 or so hours later, my brain had already erased the memory of the first peak. Anyway, I do know that by 7am we'd stripped off to our last layer and had already started to apply the suncream. It was freaking hot. Not the best conditions to be walking in. But we had to get on with it. The first peak came and went quite quickly but there was a long walk to peak two. In fact, the ascents and descents of the three peaks don't actually take very long. It's the distance between the peaks that adds up. But at least that's generally on the flat, down on the valley floor.
Time kept ticking by and as it did, the mercury pushed ever higher. It got to about 30 degrees I reckon. We had to take on a lot of fluids and some people didn't go to the loo from leaving the B&B at 5.30am to getting back at 6pm. A combination of dehydration and sweating it out I guess. Peak two was a bit of a killer. Mainly because we chose to go up the shorter but steeper path. More than one person likened it to climbing up a black ski run. It was hard. 80% of the time I was on my hands and knees scrambling up. I tried sitting down on the slope at one point to rest, but my strange vertigo kicked in and I had to keep going. I've got a thing about sheer drops. Not heights in the traditional sense but sheer things that I'm on, that I feel I could fall off. The good thing about the short, steep ascent was that it was over quickly. Because we were scrambling, our heart rates didn't increase by too much as we were climbing quite slowly so we weren't too shattered when we got to the top.
We had an 8 minute lunch atop peak two. Well, maybe 10 minutes. Time was of the essence. I should mention at this stage that the scenery was spectacular. I hadn't appreciated what a beautiful part of the world Wensleydale is. I'm definitely going back. There's lots of walking to be done and some lovely little villages. I wish T had had the chance to discover it. There are some great motorbike roads. He would have loved it there. And he would have loved the Black Sheep ale too. I sank a pint or two for him while I was there. The other thing to note is that there were thousands of other walkers on the path with us. Like proper bus loads of them. It was a bit like the Inca Trail in that respect. I hadn't expected that and it spoilt it a bit. I like the peace and quiet of walking in remote areas. You don't even need a map to complete this walk. Just follow the hoards ahead of you.
The descent of peak two was hard on the knees but we were soon clear of that one and had our sights on peak three, away over in the distance. We stopped for refreshments at a little stall in a barn. They were doing a roaring trade, not least because they weren't trying to rip walkers off. A pint of iced orange squash was only 80p. They could have charged £3 and they would have still sold like hot cakes. It was nice to see. Peak three's ascent was hard. There was a very steep set of zig-zagging steps/rocks to climb. And it was really really hot. And we were really really tired. But we ploughed on and eventually made it to the top. Three Yorkshire peaks in the bag. Get in. Pleased as Punch we were. There were pats on backs all round and a thought for T, who was greatly missed. The euphoria soon wore off during the 6-mile walk out from peak three. It was the longest 6 miles ever. We were exhausted and hot and most of us were out of water by that stage. Muscles were aching. Blisters were rubbing. Skin was burning. We'd had enough. We eventually limped back into Horton after walking for 10h40m, cursing T for making us take up his challenge. But I don't think any of us had any regrets. It was an amazing day and we felt a huge sense of achievement. No pain no gain as the old adage goes.
Thursday 20 May 2010
3 Peaks
I thought I'd let you know that I've survived my first week back. It's not necessarily been all easy sailing, but I've survived. And that's the main thing. I've caught up with as many friends as I could and still have lots to see. But that will have to wait unfortunately, as today I'm heading north for the latest challenge that T set us. On Saturday, me and 8 of our mates are going to attempt the Yorkshire 3 Peaks walk. This is a 24.5m/39.2km walk up and down three of Yorkshire's peaks. That you have to complete in 12 hours or less in order to complete the challenge. It's not going to be easy, but it's training for our national 3 Peaks Challenge in June, where we'll climb Ben Nevis, Scafell Pike and Snowdon in 24 hours. With 500m/800km of driving in between. I may have already mentioned that T emailed his mates to try and arrange the national 3 Peaks just a week or so before he died. So he really threw down the gauntlet. How could we not do it? It's also a good opportunity to raise some more money for Medecins Sans Frontieres in T's memory. You can sponsor us via the Just Giving website if you'd like to. Let me know if you need the link.
I'm really looking forward to this weekend. And I'm incredibly grateful to T for making me do these things that I'm getting so much pleasure from. When he mentioned the 3 Peaks to me, I thought the walk sounded impossible and suggested I could be the driver. Now I'm raring to walk up hill and down dale. How things change. I wish more than anything that I was still a lazy so-and-so that could ferry T round the country on his various challenges. But given that's not possible, I am grateful to have this opportunity to continue to live my life in the spirit T intended to live his.
I'm stopping in Sheffield en route tomorrow to have lunch with T's step-sister. It will be tough going back there but I'm looking forward to seeing the city again after so long. It's where some of my happiest memories were created and will always have a special place in my heart.
I'm really looking forward to this weekend. And I'm incredibly grateful to T for making me do these things that I'm getting so much pleasure from. When he mentioned the 3 Peaks to me, I thought the walk sounded impossible and suggested I could be the driver. Now I'm raring to walk up hill and down dale. How things change. I wish more than anything that I was still a lazy so-and-so that could ferry T round the country on his various challenges. But given that's not possible, I am grateful to have this opportunity to continue to live my life in the spirit T intended to live his.
I'm stopping in Sheffield en route tomorrow to have lunch with T's step-sister. It will be tough going back there but I'm looking forward to seeing the city again after so long. It's where some of my happiest memories were created and will always have a special place in my heart.
Monday 17 May 2010
Star struck
My highlights today were seeing my lovely London friends Lynn, Molly and Zehra for lunch. And seeing Christopher Ecclestone. He was just wandering round the Festival Hall looking less like the Doctor and more like an average Joe. I get very star struck though. So I was following his every move, but sadly he didn't do anything interesting. Nor did I get any photos. It was really nice catching up with the girls. They have been so supportive both before I went away, while I was away and now that I'm back. I'm lucky to have them in my life. Big up the girls.
Speaking of stars, I can't remember if I mentioned it while I was away but sat around a campfire on night on a beach in NZ one night I learnt that when translated, Milky Way becomes Milk Street in German. I know it's not so far removed from the English but it tickled me.
On a moaning note, I was stuck in a queue to get through to easyjet's call centre for just under two hours today. At 10p/min. How bad's that? I know they've got ash-related shit to deal with but two bleeding hours! Not 'appy, as T would have said in a broad Nottingham accent.
Speaking of stars, I can't remember if I mentioned it while I was away but sat around a campfire on night on a beach in NZ one night I learnt that when translated, Milky Way becomes Milk Street in German. I know it's not so far removed from the English but it tickled me.
On a moaning note, I was stuck in a queue to get through to easyjet's call centre for just under two hours today. At 10p/min. How bad's that? I know they've got ash-related shit to deal with but two bleeding hours! Not 'appy, as T would have said in a broad Nottingham accent.
Friday 14 May 2010
Observations
I have made two main observations since being back in Blighty. One is how nice it is not to live permanently in air-conditioned spaces. The other is how light the nights are. I can't remember the last time I saw daylight beyond about 7pm. I love it. But it does throw my timings out a bit. How are you meant to know when it's time for tea if it's still daylight?
I've made lots of other observations of course. Like how bloody cold it is. How nice the lilac is this year. How it's funny how, on one hand, it feels like I've never been away while on the other it feels like I've been away forever. How lovely it was to have a surprise airport pick-up from me Ma. How nothing has fundamentally changed. How incredibly hard it was coming into land given that the first recognisable landmark I saw was the Dartford Crossing, a stone's throw from Brands Hatch and within sight of the hospital. How this time last week I was in Saigon. That's weird. How Pam has ingrained 'Hotel, Motel, Holiday Inn' into the depths of my brain and I can't stop singing it in my head. Thanks for that mate! How I miss travelling. How I'm looking forward to catching up with people here. But miss the people there. How quickly time passes. And how fortunate I am to have done what I've done. I'm already thinking about my next journey. In the words of my old friend:
There's a voice that keeps on calling me
Down the road, that's where I'll always be.
Every stop I make, I make a new friend,
Can't stay for long, just turn around and I'm gone again.
Maybe tomorrow, I'll want to settle down,
Until tomorrow, I'll just keep moving on.
I've made lots of other observations of course. Like how bloody cold it is. How nice the lilac is this year. How it's funny how, on one hand, it feels like I've never been away while on the other it feels like I've been away forever. How lovely it was to have a surprise airport pick-up from me Ma. How nothing has fundamentally changed. How incredibly hard it was coming into land given that the first recognisable landmark I saw was the Dartford Crossing, a stone's throw from Brands Hatch and within sight of the hospital. How this time last week I was in Saigon. That's weird. How Pam has ingrained 'Hotel, Motel, Holiday Inn' into the depths of my brain and I can't stop singing it in my head. Thanks for that mate! How I miss travelling. How I'm looking forward to catching up with people here. But miss the people there. How quickly time passes. And how fortunate I am to have done what I've done. I'm already thinking about my next journey. In the words of my old friend:
There's a voice that keeps on calling me
Down the road, that's where I'll always be.
Every stop I make, I make a new friend,
Can't stay for long, just turn around and I'm gone again.
Maybe tomorrow, I'll want to settle down,
Until tomorrow, I'll just keep moving on.
Tuesday 11 May 2010
Full circle
I can remember so vividly being sat in the lounge at Heathrow on 28th February crying my eyes out. Crying because I didn't know what to expect. Crying because of what I was leaving behind. Crying because I was alone. And sad. And nervous. And crying most of all because T wasn't with me. Almost two and a half months later I'm sat crying in the lounge at Singapore's Changi Airport. Crying because I know what to expect when I get home. Crying because of what I'm leaving behind here in the southern hemisphere. Crying because I'm alone. And because T isn't with me. And because he won't be at the other end to welcome me back into his life. I long to be safely enclosed in his strong arms, my heart warmed by his huge smile. At home. Where we belong.
But I'm also crying because I made it. I survived. I have seen and done things that made my heart sing. I've met some amazing new friends. I've caught up with some amazing old friends. I've swam with dolphins. I've climbed some mountains. I've jumped out of a bloody plane. I've been white-water rafting. On a tall ship. Out for cocktails. And delicious food. Survived a canyon swing. Camped for a whole freaking month. Been dancing. Sat round camp fires. Drank lots of beer. And some of the nicest wine I've ever tasted. I feel different I think. Stronger in some ways. More vulnerable in others. But I think I've proved to myself that when faced with the choice I chose life and survival. I could so easily have gone the other way. But I feel alive, and grateful to have had the opportunities I've had. I'm proud of myself. And what makes me cry even more is that I know T would be proud of me too. He would be astounded by what I've done. I did a lot of it for me. But I did most of it for him. Rest in peace my beautiful boy. And, if you can, stay with me somehow forever. I need you close. I love you.
But I'm also crying because I made it. I survived. I have seen and done things that made my heart sing. I've met some amazing new friends. I've caught up with some amazing old friends. I've swam with dolphins. I've climbed some mountains. I've jumped out of a bloody plane. I've been white-water rafting. On a tall ship. Out for cocktails. And delicious food. Survived a canyon swing. Camped for a whole freaking month. Been dancing. Sat round camp fires. Drank lots of beer. And some of the nicest wine I've ever tasted. I feel different I think. Stronger in some ways. More vulnerable in others. But I think I've proved to myself that when faced with the choice I chose life and survival. I could so easily have gone the other way. But I feel alive, and grateful to have had the opportunities I've had. I'm proud of myself. And what makes me cry even more is that I know T would be proud of me too. He would be astounded by what I've done. I did a lot of it for me. But I did most of it for him. Rest in peace my beautiful boy. And, if you can, stay with me somehow forever. I need you close. I love you.
Saigon highlights
War Remnants Museum - what happened in Vietnam during the war is simply atrocious. How it was allowed to happen, especially so recently, I'll never understand. Why innocent children, women and elderly people were killed in the name of this war beggars belief. Why chemicals like Agent Orange and god knows what else were used so mercilessly, killing and maiming thousands and destroying huge areas of vegetation is beyond comprehension. This museum is a pretty gruelling place to visit. But I think it's important that we understand what happened to this country during the war. It's not sensationalised in any way. The facts and the photos speak for themselves. It puts things in perspective. Suffering is all relative. A great deal of it is unnecessary.
Mani/pedi - sorry to move on with such apparent ease to the subject of beautifications after talking about war. I don't mean to be flippant. But Pam almost passed out during her pedicure. If it wasn't for the fact that I have a tendency to feel faint if I see someone else faint, I would have laughed more. Sorry Pam! The woman was cutting Pam's cuticles and Pam thought she had drawn blood but couldn't bring herself to look to see if she had. So she went into faint mode. Fortunately the beauticians rushed into action and brought her hot ginger tea and smelling salts. And on the plus side she got a free head massage out of it as they rubbed some kind of oil into her temples to bring her round. That's one mani/pedi we'll remember forever.
Fragrant, fresh, cheap food - we went to a great restaurant called Ngon. You sit outside in a beautiful courtyard full of trees. There are stalls set up round the outside and you wander round choosing what you fancy. Everything was so full of flavour - lots of fresh, zingy herbs. We avoided the false dog meat and the chicken feet but sampled the national dish of pho - a spicy noodle dish in broth. And the fresh spring rolls were just divine. It was all so cheap. Like maybe a fiver per person, including alcohol.
Honda Oms - we were either brave or stupid and went on two Honda Oms while we were in Saigon. They are motorbike taxis, om meaning embrace. They are the quickest and cheapest way to travel but you do sometimes need to shut your eyes and hope for the best at junctions. The motorbikes are a law unto themselves. You look right, you look left, you think it's safe to cross the road then one of the bloody things comes flying towards you. On the pavement. Fortunately our drivers weren't too crazy and we arrived at our destinations in one piece. It was a good experience and I know T would have loved it.
Apocalypse Now - we had a very civilised meal in a lovely French cafe called Au Parc on our last night. We enjoyed a bottle of sauvignan blanc. We'd had a nice evening. It was about 11pm. We were weary. We're getting on a bit. But on our way home we decided to pop into the local nightclub for one drink as we'd been told by various people it was worth a visit, even just to observe the eclectic mix of customers. One drink. We got home at about 4am. Again though, like the mani/pedi, we'll remember that night forever. Had we just gone home to bed after our meal it would have been more forgettable.
Hot hot hot - I can't describe how hot and humid it was. It was definitely worse than Singapore. When I took my skirt off it had white stuff round the waistband. Turned out to be salt from all the sweating I'd done. But there's nothing you can do about it. The locals are all wrapped up in their hoodies. The women wear long gloves and knee socks on their motorbikes. People are riding round on push bikes. But they never break into a sweat. All the tourists are glistening. Invariably they also have soggy backs.
Coffee - the Vietnamese coffee is some of the best I've ever tasted. Maybe it's the weasel effect. They were consistently good, and especially good iced. Yum.
Mani/pedi - sorry to move on with such apparent ease to the subject of beautifications after talking about war. I don't mean to be flippant. But Pam almost passed out during her pedicure. If it wasn't for the fact that I have a tendency to feel faint if I see someone else faint, I would have laughed more. Sorry Pam! The woman was cutting Pam's cuticles and Pam thought she had drawn blood but couldn't bring herself to look to see if she had. So she went into faint mode. Fortunately the beauticians rushed into action and brought her hot ginger tea and smelling salts. And on the plus side she got a free head massage out of it as they rubbed some kind of oil into her temples to bring her round. That's one mani/pedi we'll remember forever.
Fragrant, fresh, cheap food - we went to a great restaurant called Ngon. You sit outside in a beautiful courtyard full of trees. There are stalls set up round the outside and you wander round choosing what you fancy. Everything was so full of flavour - lots of fresh, zingy herbs. We avoided the false dog meat and the chicken feet but sampled the national dish of pho - a spicy noodle dish in broth. And the fresh spring rolls were just divine. It was all so cheap. Like maybe a fiver per person, including alcohol.
Honda Oms - we were either brave or stupid and went on two Honda Oms while we were in Saigon. They are motorbike taxis, om meaning embrace. They are the quickest and cheapest way to travel but you do sometimes need to shut your eyes and hope for the best at junctions. The motorbikes are a law unto themselves. You look right, you look left, you think it's safe to cross the road then one of the bloody things comes flying towards you. On the pavement. Fortunately our drivers weren't too crazy and we arrived at our destinations in one piece. It was a good experience and I know T would have loved it.
Apocalypse Now - we had a very civilised meal in a lovely French cafe called Au Parc on our last night. We enjoyed a bottle of sauvignan blanc. We'd had a nice evening. It was about 11pm. We were weary. We're getting on a bit. But on our way home we decided to pop into the local nightclub for one drink as we'd been told by various people it was worth a visit, even just to observe the eclectic mix of customers. One drink. We got home at about 4am. Again though, like the mani/pedi, we'll remember that night forever. Had we just gone home to bed after our meal it would have been more forgettable.
Hot hot hot - I can't describe how hot and humid it was. It was definitely worse than Singapore. When I took my skirt off it had white stuff round the waistband. Turned out to be salt from all the sweating I'd done. But there's nothing you can do about it. The locals are all wrapped up in their hoodies. The women wear long gloves and knee socks on their motorbikes. People are riding round on push bikes. But they never break into a sweat. All the tourists are glistening. Invariably they also have soggy backs.
Coffee - the Vietnamese coffee is some of the best I've ever tasted. Maybe it's the weasel effect. They were consistently good, and especially good iced. Yum.
Monday 10 May 2010
Weasel coffee
In the market in Saigon yesterday, Pam and I bought ourselves a bag of Vietnamese coffee. It smelled delicious and we were told it was weasel coffee. Mrs Fellow Tourist said, "I've been told that this coffee really has been eaten by a weasel.". "Ha ha", we laughed. As if they're going to feed weasels coffee. How ridiculous. And how would the coffee bean come out the other side intact? And more importantly, what's the point?
But as Mrs Tourist had sowed a seed of doubt in my mind, I just googled weasel coffee. Here's the wikipedia explanation:
Kopi luwak, or civet coffee, is coffee made from the beans of coffee berries which have been eaten by the Asian Palm Civet (Paradoxurus hermaphroditus) and other related civets, then passed through its digestive tract. A civet eats the berries for their fleshy pulp. In its stomach, proteolytic enzymes seep into the beans, making shorter peptides and more free amino acids. Passing through a civet's intestines the beans are then defecated, having kept their shape. After gathering, thorough washing, sun drying, light roasting and brewing, these beans yield an aromatic coffee with much less bitterness, widely noted as the most expensive coffee in the world.
You might want to ask for a tea when you're next at mine...
But as Mrs Tourist had sowed a seed of doubt in my mind, I just googled weasel coffee. Here's the wikipedia explanation:
Kopi luwak, or civet coffee, is coffee made from the beans of coffee berries which have been eaten by the Asian Palm Civet (Paradoxurus hermaphroditus) and other related civets, then passed through its digestive tract. A civet eats the berries for their fleshy pulp. In its stomach, proteolytic enzymes seep into the beans, making shorter peptides and more free amino acids. Passing through a civet's intestines the beans are then defecated, having kept their shape. After gathering, thorough washing, sun drying, light roasting and brewing, these beans yield an aromatic coffee with much less bitterness, widely noted as the most expensive coffee in the world.
You might want to ask for a tea when you're next at mine...
Friday 7 May 2010
Stand by me
PS I don't quite know what to make of this, if anything, but I logged out of my blog after publishing my last post and music started playing in the hotel lobby. It was 'Stand by me'. That was the song T and I did our first dance to at our wedding. Out of all the songs in the world that could have played at that moment. I guess it's a good sign and maybe it relates to my friends who have stood by me. Or maybe it was T saying hello to me in Vietnam? Although now 'Thunder only happens when it's raining' is playing and I can't find meaning in that!
PPS I've just been back to the rooftop bar at the Caravelle and had a coconut and ginger smoothie with my former colleague Peter. Peter's wife died a few years ago so he's been through his share of shit but has made a new life for himself out here in Saigon. Once again, it's funny how this trip has worked out and I've been able to see so many people that have been so useful to me in so many ways. Not useful in a flippant way. Useful in a coping way. It was so nice to see him again and we spent quite a lot of time talking about other Edgers. Some of you may have felt your ears burning.
PPS I've just been back to the rooftop bar at the Caravelle and had a coconut and ginger smoothie with my former colleague Peter. Peter's wife died a few years ago so he's been through his share of shit but has made a new life for himself out here in Saigon. Once again, it's funny how this trip has worked out and I've been able to see so many people that have been so useful to me in so many ways. Not useful in a flippant way. Useful in a coping way. It was so nice to see him again and we spent quite a lot of time talking about other Edgers. Some of you may have felt your ears burning.
Home and away
I've been meaning to say for a while that although I keep saying I'm not looking forward to coming home, I am looking forward to seeing my family and friends again. It's just facing up to everything again that I'm not looking forward to. Since I've been away I've felt so far removed from my life in the UK and everything that's happened. It's been nice not being in that groundhog-day life I felt like I was living. But, I don't want you to think that I'm not looking forward to seeing everyone again. I am. And I know it won't all be bad. Already my diary is filling up with Three Peaks-related stuff, Great North Run training, a trip back home and dinner dates. I'm going to say it again: I'm so lucky to have such amazing mates (family included). You have got me to where I am now and I have no doubt that you'll get me through my homecoming.
Thursday 6 May 2010
Good morning Vietnam
Well, it's not really the morning but I'm in Vietnam so I had to get that line in somewhere. It was either that or 'Miss Saigon'...
So, I landed safely in Saigon this afternoon. I was apprehensive about this leg of the trip, partly because I'm on my own for one night in a new city but also because in my mind Vietnam felt like more of a developing country, especially in contrast to the developed countries I've visited so far. Once again I've proved to myself that it's pointless worrying about things until they happen. My first impressions of Saigon are really really positive. It's a buzzy city that feels safe to wander round as a single white female, even at night. The people so far have been friendly. It feels way more developed and westernised that I imagined it would. The only hazard that I've encountered is crossing the road. OMG: there are motorbikes absolutely everywhere. Like hundreds of the things. There's women riding round in their stilettos. There's entire families on one bike. They weave in and out of the traffic with amazing dexterity, honking their horns as they go. How they do it I'll never know. My heart was in my mouth several times on the journey from the airport. And I was in a car. I've never seen anything like it. Apparently the trick to crossing the road is to make a decision to go and act on it. The drivers are used to avoiding pedestrians but if you hesitate you're more likely to get hit as they're trying to anticipate your movements. It's going to be my new adrenaline sport for the next three days. It's like playing chicken. Except you make a choice to play chicken. Over here it's just the only way you can get across the road. I did contemplate staying on one side of the street all the time but soon realised that would mean I was wandering round in a circle the whole time. Could get a bit tedious after a while.
What else can I tell you? It's hot and humid. Maybe even more so than Singapore. The local women are generally very slim and quite glam. It feels like quite an affluent city. There's a fair few tourists here. The food is meant to be very good, with a French influence. You see Vietnamese people wandering round with their baguettes. There's meant to be lots of nice cafes. French-stylee. Oh, and I'm a millionaire in Vietnam. Their currency is a bit like the Italian lire used to be. I withdrew 3 million Vietnamese Dong (VND) from the ATM at the airport. That's about 100 quid. I shared a taxi from the airport with a random Irishman - it cost me 50,000 VND. That's about 1.77GBP (sorry, no pound sign on this keyboard). I went for a beer in Saigon Saigon, the rooftop bar of the Caravelle Hotel. It cost me 4GBP. That was in a swanky hotel. My meal was about the same price. That's mega cheap. I really like it here. Not just because it's cheap. The city has a nice feel to it. I'm pleasantly surprised. And really pleased I came here. I had been thinking it would have been nice to stay in safe old Singapore but this was a good thing to do.
I also surprised myself by not sitting in my hotel room all evening. I was super brave and took myself off to said rooftop bar (good coz there was the view for distraction as it was too dark to read the book I'd taken - tactics, you see). I then went to another bar for some food and had a beer there too. It was the type of place that didn't matter that I was on my own. It wasn't too busy and I could look out at the activity on the street. Then there was a power cut and I got talking to the waitress who spoke very broken English but we managed. It's not nice thinking that I've got to get used to going out on my own now, but I'm pleased that I've tried it and it wasn't the disaster it could have been.
My other angst was that the Irishman I ended up sharing a taxi with from the airport suggested we could go out for a beer tonight. I'm 100% convinced that it was an innocent enough invitation (two Brits at a loose end in Saigon) but I freaked out a bit and managed to avoid making any firm plans. I just kind of said we'd probably see each other around and leapt out the taxi. In my mind I was thinking about that Liam Neesen film, Taken, where Liam's daughter meets someone at the airport in Paris and ends up being kidnapped and drugged. Good old Liam has to fly in from the US and rescue her and it's all very scary. When my sister and I went to Paris last year, I think my Dad was worried we'd get into the same situation. Thankfully we survived Paris but when Irishman suggested meeting that was my first thought. I live in cloud cuckoo land. But better safe than sorry.
Tomorrow I'm meeting up with Peter, a former colleague, who has moved out here. It will be good to see him again and to get some tips from a local. Then Pam jets in tomorrow afternoon. I think I'll be taking her to one of the rooftop bars then for some nice food somewhere. We plan to go to the War Remnants Museum at some point over the weekend and for a cheap mani/pedi. I passed somewhere today where it was US$5 for a manicure. That's peanuts. There's a few markets to visit and otherwise we'll just be taking it all in and enjoying our city break. Oh, and maybe doing a bit of clothes shopping. Although we've only got a 7kg luggage allowance on the flight back to Singapore. We can always pay the excess I suppose.
Anyway, I think that's my brain-dump over for today. This blog has been my surrogate counsellor while I've been away. I come on and write down all my feelings, hit publish and then can rest easy as it feels like I've communicated with someone. So I owe you a thank you for listening to my ramblings and therefore helping me to sleep easier tonight.
So, I landed safely in Saigon this afternoon. I was apprehensive about this leg of the trip, partly because I'm on my own for one night in a new city but also because in my mind Vietnam felt like more of a developing country, especially in contrast to the developed countries I've visited so far. Once again I've proved to myself that it's pointless worrying about things until they happen. My first impressions of Saigon are really really positive. It's a buzzy city that feels safe to wander round as a single white female, even at night. The people so far have been friendly. It feels way more developed and westernised that I imagined it would. The only hazard that I've encountered is crossing the road. OMG: there are motorbikes absolutely everywhere. Like hundreds of the things. There's women riding round in their stilettos. There's entire families on one bike. They weave in and out of the traffic with amazing dexterity, honking their horns as they go. How they do it I'll never know. My heart was in my mouth several times on the journey from the airport. And I was in a car. I've never seen anything like it. Apparently the trick to crossing the road is to make a decision to go and act on it. The drivers are used to avoiding pedestrians but if you hesitate you're more likely to get hit as they're trying to anticipate your movements. It's going to be my new adrenaline sport for the next three days. It's like playing chicken. Except you make a choice to play chicken. Over here it's just the only way you can get across the road. I did contemplate staying on one side of the street all the time but soon realised that would mean I was wandering round in a circle the whole time. Could get a bit tedious after a while.
What else can I tell you? It's hot and humid. Maybe even more so than Singapore. The local women are generally very slim and quite glam. It feels like quite an affluent city. There's a fair few tourists here. The food is meant to be very good, with a French influence. You see Vietnamese people wandering round with their baguettes. There's meant to be lots of nice cafes. French-stylee. Oh, and I'm a millionaire in Vietnam. Their currency is a bit like the Italian lire used to be. I withdrew 3 million Vietnamese Dong (VND) from the ATM at the airport. That's about 100 quid. I shared a taxi from the airport with a random Irishman - it cost me 50,000 VND. That's about 1.77GBP (sorry, no pound sign on this keyboard). I went for a beer in Saigon Saigon, the rooftop bar of the Caravelle Hotel. It cost me 4GBP. That was in a swanky hotel. My meal was about the same price. That's mega cheap. I really like it here. Not just because it's cheap. The city has a nice feel to it. I'm pleasantly surprised. And really pleased I came here. I had been thinking it would have been nice to stay in safe old Singapore but this was a good thing to do.
I also surprised myself by not sitting in my hotel room all evening. I was super brave and took myself off to said rooftop bar (good coz there was the view for distraction as it was too dark to read the book I'd taken - tactics, you see). I then went to another bar for some food and had a beer there too. It was the type of place that didn't matter that I was on my own. It wasn't too busy and I could look out at the activity on the street. Then there was a power cut and I got talking to the waitress who spoke very broken English but we managed. It's not nice thinking that I've got to get used to going out on my own now, but I'm pleased that I've tried it and it wasn't the disaster it could have been.
My other angst was that the Irishman I ended up sharing a taxi with from the airport suggested we could go out for a beer tonight. I'm 100% convinced that it was an innocent enough invitation (two Brits at a loose end in Saigon) but I freaked out a bit and managed to avoid making any firm plans. I just kind of said we'd probably see each other around and leapt out the taxi. In my mind I was thinking about that Liam Neesen film, Taken, where Liam's daughter meets someone at the airport in Paris and ends up being kidnapped and drugged. Good old Liam has to fly in from the US and rescue her and it's all very scary. When my sister and I went to Paris last year, I think my Dad was worried we'd get into the same situation. Thankfully we survived Paris but when Irishman suggested meeting that was my first thought. I live in cloud cuckoo land. But better safe than sorry.
Tomorrow I'm meeting up with Peter, a former colleague, who has moved out here. It will be good to see him again and to get some tips from a local. Then Pam jets in tomorrow afternoon. I think I'll be taking her to one of the rooftop bars then for some nice food somewhere. We plan to go to the War Remnants Museum at some point over the weekend and for a cheap mani/pedi. I passed somewhere today where it was US$5 for a manicure. That's peanuts. There's a few markets to visit and otherwise we'll just be taking it all in and enjoying our city break. Oh, and maybe doing a bit of clothes shopping. Although we've only got a 7kg luggage allowance on the flight back to Singapore. We can always pay the excess I suppose.
Anyway, I think that's my brain-dump over for today. This blog has been my surrogate counsellor while I've been away. I come on and write down all my feelings, hit publish and then can rest easy as it feels like I've communicated with someone. So I owe you a thank you for listening to my ramblings and therefore helping me to sleep easier tonight.
Girls just wanna have fun
I seem to have adjusted a bit to the heat and humidity in Singapore. Thank goodness. There really is no respite. Day or night. Overcast or sunny. The heat goes on. Air con is your best friend. And cold cold drinks. It's great. Especially when Pam's mum tells us it's 11 degrees in Northumberland. I could be in for a bit of a shock next week.
On Tuesday I walked from Pam's condo near Little India into town. It's about 4.5k so it was a decent stroll. I met T's former line manager, Darrell, for lunch on Boat Quay. I'd not met Darrell before but had heard a lot about him from T so it was nice to put another face to a name and add another piece to the jigsaw that was T's life. On Tuesday night we were scheduled to go to Gold Class at the cinema. I'd heard about Gold Class in Australia and Pam is a huge fan so I was looking forward to lying back in a big comfy reclining chair and having food and drink brought to me in the darkness, but sadly there were no good films on. It may have just passed me by, but as far as I know we don't have Gold Class in the UK but I can't think why. I reckon there might be a gap in the market. Anyway, instead of Gold Class we went for yummy and very cheap sushi. And I was brave and tried a chrysanthemum iced tea. It wasn't bad - maybe a bit like chamomile if I had to liken it to anything - and is apparently very good for you.
Yesterday I met Stella, a Singaporian that I met on the Flying Kiwi bus, for lunch. She took me to a lovely Indonesian restaurant in the CBD where we shared a real variety of dishes. We had BBQ squid, some spicy green vegetables, prawns with a spicy oatmeal crumb, a chicken dish, tofu with peanut sauce and rice wrapped in a banana leaf. Rounded off with an avocado milkshake for dessert. You mix pureed avocado with coconut sugar, milk and crushed ice. It's very green. And it takes one or two tastes to get used to but I really enjoyed it. It was nice to catch up with a fellow Flying Kiwi. No matter how much you tell other people about the trip, they are never going to understand fully what it was like or be able to help you remember things. That's one of the things that's hit me about T not being here. We've spent the past 13 years helping each other fill in gaps or having a laugh about those 'remember when' times. Now there's no-one to do that with. Or at least the people that can are spread around the world. I guess that's the beauty of email and Facebook though.
I came home via Little India. This area really stimulates your senses. Indian music blasts out of the CD shops. There's the smell of fresh and fragrant Indian herbs, vegetables and spices as you walk past the grocery stalls. Brightly coloured saris and fabrics flutter in the breeze at the clothes shops. You look down an alleyway and through an open door you see an Indian woman sat at a sewing machine taking up a hem. Men are making flower garlands to take to the temples. It's a fascinating place and another facet to the cultural melting pot that is Singapore.
As if that wasn't enough excitement for one day, the best was yet to come. I was under strict instructions to be at home and ready to go out by 4pm for a birthday surprise. So I put on my glad rags, whacked the air con up and managed to straighten my hair. It's no mean feat straightening your hair over here when it's so darn hot. Then the minute you step outside it all just frizzes anyway. Hey ho. Pam hailed a taxi then had a discussion with the driver with the door closed so I couldn't hear where we were off to. The next thing you know we're pulling up at Raffles Hotel. Not what I was expecting so I was pleased I'd made an effort to dress up a bit.
Raffles is a beautiful place. The building is stunning. Very colonial. It really takes you back to times gone by. And it's a little oasis in the heart of the city. Lots of palm trees and fountains. There's a really laid back atmosphere, it's not at all stuffy. So, I've guessed we're going to the Long Bar for a Singapore Sling. But I've been there, done that, bought the tea towel. Instead Pam had booked us in for high tea. Not only was it my first ever afternoon tea. I was having it at Raffles! We had a table right next to the buffet. For this is no ordinary afternoon tea; there's an eat as much as you want buffet - noodles, mini chicken pies, curry puffs, spring rolls, dim sum. And that's before they bring you your afternoon tea proper - cucumber, chicken and smoked salmon sandwiches on one tier, scones with jam and clotted cream on the next, and mini lemon meringue pies, mini strawberry and cream choux buns and mini pistachio madeleines on the top tier. As if that wasn't enough, there are seconds and thirds of all of the above on the buffet table, as well as fruit platters. Oh, how I wish I'd skipped lunch. Although I still managed to put a fair bit away. It was such a lovely treat and I'm so grateful to Pam, my lovely friend, for being so generous and thoughtful.
The day was rounded off with cocktails at the New Asia Bar on the 70th floor of the Swissotel-Stamford with Emma, one of Pam's fellow teachers. The views were spectacular. It makes you realise what a densely populated country/city Singapore is. There are condos as far as the eye can see. And if you think about how many people live in each condo and how many condos there are, then that's a canny lot of people. It was lovely seeing the city lit up and all the boats out at sea. That's one of my lasting memories of Singapore from the time I've spent here in the past. The boats all waiting to come in to load up. It's like Piccadilly Circus out there. That and the smell of durians, the world's smelliest fruit. So smelly they are banned on the MRT, Singapore's Underground. Having said that, I'm yet to smell a durian on this trip. Maybe the Singaporians have realised that it can't be good to eat something so smelly.
I'm just about to go and do my 60 lengths in Pam's pool before I head off to Ho Chi Minh City this arvo. I'm a bit nervous about going on my own as I'm just not sure what to expect when I get there. But I've been assured that's it's a lovely city, safe for me to wander on my own, within reason of course. It sounds like crossing the road will be the biggest hazard. I'm meeting Peter, a former colleague and fellow Northumbrian, tomorrow morning then Pam arrives tomorrow evening so it's not like I'm going to be on my own for long. I'll just see how I feel when I get there and if I don't feel safe then I'll stay in my hotel room and read my book. If I feel fine then I'll go exploring and see what I can find. We're back here on Sunday then my flight home is on Tuesday night, so not long to go. I don't know where the time has gone. I guess maybe the old saying is true - time flies when you're having fun. Sometimes it's hard to admit that I'm having fun. But sometimes I am. And I think that's probably a good thing.
On Tuesday I walked from Pam's condo near Little India into town. It's about 4.5k so it was a decent stroll. I met T's former line manager, Darrell, for lunch on Boat Quay. I'd not met Darrell before but had heard a lot about him from T so it was nice to put another face to a name and add another piece to the jigsaw that was T's life. On Tuesday night we were scheduled to go to Gold Class at the cinema. I'd heard about Gold Class in Australia and Pam is a huge fan so I was looking forward to lying back in a big comfy reclining chair and having food and drink brought to me in the darkness, but sadly there were no good films on. It may have just passed me by, but as far as I know we don't have Gold Class in the UK but I can't think why. I reckon there might be a gap in the market. Anyway, instead of Gold Class we went for yummy and very cheap sushi. And I was brave and tried a chrysanthemum iced tea. It wasn't bad - maybe a bit like chamomile if I had to liken it to anything - and is apparently very good for you.
Yesterday I met Stella, a Singaporian that I met on the Flying Kiwi bus, for lunch. She took me to a lovely Indonesian restaurant in the CBD where we shared a real variety of dishes. We had BBQ squid, some spicy green vegetables, prawns with a spicy oatmeal crumb, a chicken dish, tofu with peanut sauce and rice wrapped in a banana leaf. Rounded off with an avocado milkshake for dessert. You mix pureed avocado with coconut sugar, milk and crushed ice. It's very green. And it takes one or two tastes to get used to but I really enjoyed it. It was nice to catch up with a fellow Flying Kiwi. No matter how much you tell other people about the trip, they are never going to understand fully what it was like or be able to help you remember things. That's one of the things that's hit me about T not being here. We've spent the past 13 years helping each other fill in gaps or having a laugh about those 'remember when' times. Now there's no-one to do that with. Or at least the people that can are spread around the world. I guess that's the beauty of email and Facebook though.
I came home via Little India. This area really stimulates your senses. Indian music blasts out of the CD shops. There's the smell of fresh and fragrant Indian herbs, vegetables and spices as you walk past the grocery stalls. Brightly coloured saris and fabrics flutter in the breeze at the clothes shops. You look down an alleyway and through an open door you see an Indian woman sat at a sewing machine taking up a hem. Men are making flower garlands to take to the temples. It's a fascinating place and another facet to the cultural melting pot that is Singapore.
As if that wasn't enough excitement for one day, the best was yet to come. I was under strict instructions to be at home and ready to go out by 4pm for a birthday surprise. So I put on my glad rags, whacked the air con up and managed to straighten my hair. It's no mean feat straightening your hair over here when it's so darn hot. Then the minute you step outside it all just frizzes anyway. Hey ho. Pam hailed a taxi then had a discussion with the driver with the door closed so I couldn't hear where we were off to. The next thing you know we're pulling up at Raffles Hotel. Not what I was expecting so I was pleased I'd made an effort to dress up a bit.
Raffles is a beautiful place. The building is stunning. Very colonial. It really takes you back to times gone by. And it's a little oasis in the heart of the city. Lots of palm trees and fountains. There's a really laid back atmosphere, it's not at all stuffy. So, I've guessed we're going to the Long Bar for a Singapore Sling. But I've been there, done that, bought the tea towel. Instead Pam had booked us in for high tea. Not only was it my first ever afternoon tea. I was having it at Raffles! We had a table right next to the buffet. For this is no ordinary afternoon tea; there's an eat as much as you want buffet - noodles, mini chicken pies, curry puffs, spring rolls, dim sum. And that's before they bring you your afternoon tea proper - cucumber, chicken and smoked salmon sandwiches on one tier, scones with jam and clotted cream on the next, and mini lemon meringue pies, mini strawberry and cream choux buns and mini pistachio madeleines on the top tier. As if that wasn't enough, there are seconds and thirds of all of the above on the buffet table, as well as fruit platters. Oh, how I wish I'd skipped lunch. Although I still managed to put a fair bit away. It was such a lovely treat and I'm so grateful to Pam, my lovely friend, for being so generous and thoughtful.
The day was rounded off with cocktails at the New Asia Bar on the 70th floor of the Swissotel-Stamford with Emma, one of Pam's fellow teachers. The views were spectacular. It makes you realise what a densely populated country/city Singapore is. There are condos as far as the eye can see. And if you think about how many people live in each condo and how many condos there are, then that's a canny lot of people. It was lovely seeing the city lit up and all the boats out at sea. That's one of my lasting memories of Singapore from the time I've spent here in the past. The boats all waiting to come in to load up. It's like Piccadilly Circus out there. That and the smell of durians, the world's smelliest fruit. So smelly they are banned on the MRT, Singapore's Underground. Having said that, I'm yet to smell a durian on this trip. Maybe the Singaporians have realised that it can't be good to eat something so smelly.
I'm just about to go and do my 60 lengths in Pam's pool before I head off to Ho Chi Minh City this arvo. I'm a bit nervous about going on my own as I'm just not sure what to expect when I get there. But I've been assured that's it's a lovely city, safe for me to wander on my own, within reason of course. It sounds like crossing the road will be the biggest hazard. I'm meeting Peter, a former colleague and fellow Northumbrian, tomorrow morning then Pam arrives tomorrow evening so it's not like I'm going to be on my own for long. I'll just see how I feel when I get there and if I don't feel safe then I'll stay in my hotel room and read my book. If I feel fine then I'll go exploring and see what I can find. We're back here on Sunday then my flight home is on Tuesday night, so not long to go. I don't know where the time has gone. I guess maybe the old saying is true - time flies when you're having fun. Sometimes it's hard to admit that I'm having fun. But sometimes I am. And I think that's probably a good thing.
Monday 3 May 2010
Melting
It's gone midnight and I'm still melting. I'm going to come back about a stone lighter with the amount of sweating I'm going to do here in Singapore. It's been about 11 years since I was last here and in that time I seem to have forgotten how freaking hot and humid this country is. It's good to be back though. My Dad lived out here for a while so it kind of feels a bit like home. Singapore is currently home to my old school friend Pam, so that makes it feel even more like home. And I'm eight hours closer to the UK now, so I guess geographically I'm closer to home too.
I was inexplicably emotional on the flight from Brisbane to Singapore today and had quite a few tears. I was going to say that I'm not sure why, but I can kind of guess why:
Last time I was here was with T.
We had a good time here - happy memories.
My big adventure is one step closer to coming to an end. And all that entails...
I left NZ and Australia behind, and my friends in both countries. I think I will be back one day but I don't know when.
I was back to being on my own again for the first time in a while.
I was flying economy.
That last one is obviously a joke. The plane was actually really empty so I was able to spread out across the seats and pretend I was in business class. I didn't think much of the warm quiche though. Thumbs down to that. But the riesling went down a treat. I got to watch a couple of good films (Le Concert and Los Abrazos Rotos/Broken Embraces - a really good Almodovar film). I also listened to Cheryl Cole's album. Not historically my thing but she has surprised me in recent months with her Will.i.am and Snow Patrol collaborations. Verdict: first half of the album is better than the second. And I don't think I'll buy the whole thing. Maybe the odd song for my ipod?
Anyway, I really do digress... I'll write more about the past little while when it's not so late in the day after a long-haul flight, but the gist of it is that on Sunday Janelle and I left the Whitsundays for Brisbane. We had such a good holiday and got to know each other even more than we already did over the 10 days we spent up there. Due in part to sharing a teeny tiny cabin for six days on a relatively small boat I guess. There was no real escape, so it's just as well we did get on. We put the world to rights. We brainstormed and debated how to try and get our own lives back on some sort of track. We marked my birthday. The first without T. We yacked into the night about the people we'd met. We giggled an awful lot. Sometimes until we cried. We ate a huge amount. But we kidded ourselves that the laughing was good for our tummy muscles so negated some of the calories. Janelle even kidded herself that her White Russian was good for her as it contained milk. We played way too much Scrabble. And mostly got shamefully beaten by non native English speaking people. We danced with some Western Australians in a dodgy backpackers bar. And we didn't really care what we looked like. Or that we were about 15 years older that the rest of the clientele. In fact, it was a relief not to be there as a 17 year old. Been there, done that. Then, wham. It was over. We were back in Brisbane and that was another leg of my trip more or less over. It was sad saying goodbye to me old marra Janelle. Today I kept looking around for her, thinking I was walking too fast again and she was lagging behind as her little legs couldn't keep up, but she wasn't there. It's been a blast little Paatsch and I thank you for taking such good care of me. And I salute you for jumping out of a plane at 14,000ft. One day you'll look back on that whole experience and smile.
My old Strasbourg marra, Steve, met us at Brisbane airport yesterday and I spent last night sat on his sofa with him and his mate Martin. Martin has spent the past seven, that's seven, months on a bus from London to Sydney. It sounded like the Flying Kiwi bus. Except it was for seven times as long. Imagine that fellow FKs. And it was through places like Pakistan under armed guard. Slightly more hardcore than our jaunt. Steve has got a lovely pad in BrisVegas so we had a bedroom and a bathroom each. And some noodles with a side order of English television. We watched Top Gear and Blackadder and Men Behaving Badly and the Liverpool-Chelsea match. It felt like a warm-up for going home. It was so nice to see Steve again. I saw him briefly last year but otherwise we hadn't really seen each other since Strasbourg and that's a good 12 years ago now. Once again it proved to me that the passing of time doesn't stop you being mates. It was like we'd just seen each other yesterday. Thank you for putting me up Steve, and for ferrying me to and from the airport, especially at the crack of dawn today - I really appreciate it.
Then I had my eight hour flight, which you know all about except I forgot to say that there was lots of turbulence, before meeting Pam at the airport here in Singapore. We had a swim to cool off, then the most delicious chocolate birthday cake, that Pam had gone to the trouble of making. I was so touched and it was a lovely welcome to Singapore. It even had a plastic Elmo swimming through the chocolate icing under a cocktail umbrella. I'll definitely be taking that recipe home with me. In fact, I might publish some of the recipes I've collected on here one day and share the love. I'm really looking forward to spending time with Pam here in Singapore. And to exploring this city again after so long. I'm hoping to meet one of Tim's former line managers for lunch one day, and one of my Flying Kiwi friends, then it's off to Ho Chi Minh City for a long weekend on Thursday. So I reckon it's probably time for bed now. I've got a lot to fit in... Night night.
I was inexplicably emotional on the flight from Brisbane to Singapore today and had quite a few tears. I was going to say that I'm not sure why, but I can kind of guess why:
Last time I was here was with T.
We had a good time here - happy memories.
My big adventure is one step closer to coming to an end. And all that entails...
I left NZ and Australia behind, and my friends in both countries. I think I will be back one day but I don't know when.
I was back to being on my own again for the first time in a while.
I was flying economy.
That last one is obviously a joke. The plane was actually really empty so I was able to spread out across the seats and pretend I was in business class. I didn't think much of the warm quiche though. Thumbs down to that. But the riesling went down a treat. I got to watch a couple of good films (Le Concert and Los Abrazos Rotos/Broken Embraces - a really good Almodovar film). I also listened to Cheryl Cole's album. Not historically my thing but she has surprised me in recent months with her Will.i.am and Snow Patrol collaborations. Verdict: first half of the album is better than the second. And I don't think I'll buy the whole thing. Maybe the odd song for my ipod?
Anyway, I really do digress... I'll write more about the past little while when it's not so late in the day after a long-haul flight, but the gist of it is that on Sunday Janelle and I left the Whitsundays for Brisbane. We had such a good holiday and got to know each other even more than we already did over the 10 days we spent up there. Due in part to sharing a teeny tiny cabin for six days on a relatively small boat I guess. There was no real escape, so it's just as well we did get on. We put the world to rights. We brainstormed and debated how to try and get our own lives back on some sort of track. We marked my birthday. The first without T. We yacked into the night about the people we'd met. We giggled an awful lot. Sometimes until we cried. We ate a huge amount. But we kidded ourselves that the laughing was good for our tummy muscles so negated some of the calories. Janelle even kidded herself that her White Russian was good for her as it contained milk. We played way too much Scrabble. And mostly got shamefully beaten by non native English speaking people. We danced with some Western Australians in a dodgy backpackers bar. And we didn't really care what we looked like. Or that we were about 15 years older that the rest of the clientele. In fact, it was a relief not to be there as a 17 year old. Been there, done that. Then, wham. It was over. We were back in Brisbane and that was another leg of my trip more or less over. It was sad saying goodbye to me old marra Janelle. Today I kept looking around for her, thinking I was walking too fast again and she was lagging behind as her little legs couldn't keep up, but she wasn't there. It's been a blast little Paatsch and I thank you for taking such good care of me. And I salute you for jumping out of a plane at 14,000ft. One day you'll look back on that whole experience and smile.
My old Strasbourg marra, Steve, met us at Brisbane airport yesterday and I spent last night sat on his sofa with him and his mate Martin. Martin has spent the past seven, that's seven, months on a bus from London to Sydney. It sounded like the Flying Kiwi bus. Except it was for seven times as long. Imagine that fellow FKs. And it was through places like Pakistan under armed guard. Slightly more hardcore than our jaunt. Steve has got a lovely pad in BrisVegas so we had a bedroom and a bathroom each. And some noodles with a side order of English television. We watched Top Gear and Blackadder and Men Behaving Badly and the Liverpool-Chelsea match. It felt like a warm-up for going home. It was so nice to see Steve again. I saw him briefly last year but otherwise we hadn't really seen each other since Strasbourg and that's a good 12 years ago now. Once again it proved to me that the passing of time doesn't stop you being mates. It was like we'd just seen each other yesterday. Thank you for putting me up Steve, and for ferrying me to and from the airport, especially at the crack of dawn today - I really appreciate it.
Then I had my eight hour flight, which you know all about except I forgot to say that there was lots of turbulence, before meeting Pam at the airport here in Singapore. We had a swim to cool off, then the most delicious chocolate birthday cake, that Pam had gone to the trouble of making. I was so touched and it was a lovely welcome to Singapore. It even had a plastic Elmo swimming through the chocolate icing under a cocktail umbrella. I'll definitely be taking that recipe home with me. In fact, I might publish some of the recipes I've collected on here one day and share the love. I'm really looking forward to spending time with Pam here in Singapore. And to exploring this city again after so long. I'm hoping to meet one of Tim's former line managers for lunch one day, and one of my Flying Kiwi friends, then it's off to Ho Chi Minh City for a long weekend on Thursday. So I reckon it's probably time for bed now. I've got a lot to fit in... Night night.
Saturday 1 May 2010
Back on dry land
Just a quickie to let you know that I'm back on dry land and surviving not being waited on hand and foot. We are slowly re-learning how to wash dishes and cook again. It was tough being at sea. Now we're really slumming it in a YHA on Airlie Beach. It was a bit of a shock to the system for Princess Janelle, but it's clean and a place to rest our heads at night.
My birthday was as good as it was ever going to be without T. I'll write more when I've got more internet time but I really appreciated the texts and emails. Thank you all so much. I'm lucky to have such lovely friends.
Today Janelle jumped out of a plane at 14,000ft. Because of T. That's the third person to jump out of a plane because of T. Pretty amazing.
Rightio, off for a drink and a nice meal - our last together before Janelle and I part ways tomorrow.
My birthday was as good as it was ever going to be without T. I'll write more when I've got more internet time but I really appreciated the texts and emails. Thank you all so much. I'm lucky to have such lovely friends.
Today Janelle jumped out of a plane at 14,000ft. Because of T. That's the third person to jump out of a plane because of T. Pretty amazing.
Rightio, off for a drink and a nice meal - our last together before Janelle and I part ways tomorrow.
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