Hindsley in Translation

Catching Up

2008-08-18T03:48:00.000Z

I'm just now getting around to posting pictures from all the trips I took at the end of last year. My friend Michelle was travelling all around Europe, so I hooked up with her several times - Dublin, Vienna, Munich, and Rome. It was nuts, I tell you. Nuts.

Rome

2008-08-18T03:24:00.000Z

Next stop: Rome. A weekend filled with shopping, eating at the vinoteca (which included vino), and sightseeing.

Michelle was certain that Zeus was stalking her through Europe.

The line outside the Vatican.

Commerce outside the Vatican.

Inside the Vatican

We toured around the ancient ruins that are literally everywhere in Rome.

The Spanish Steps

Vienna

2008-08-18T03:08:00.000Z

Michelle and Liz had decided to travel around Italy for a week or so. Before heading out, we met up in Vienna, just for kicks.

Everything in Vienna is built on a grand scale. One tour guide told us this was because the Monarchy wanted Vienna to look imposing to potential attackers. I think it must have worked.

Many of the historic sites in Vienna make note of (or are, frankly, obsessed with) Empress Elisabeth, or Sisi, as she was more commonly known. Sisi was the Princess Di of her day. She was adored by many for her beauty, her love of travel, her profound sadness, and her 20 inch waistline.

We spent the weekend touring around the magnificent city, intrigued by the many statues and museums.

Oktoberfest 2007

2008-08-18T02:47:00.003Z

Oktoberfest, 2007
Munich

I met a few friends in Munich for the big beer festival. It was, perhaps predictably, a frenzy of steins and costumed revelers. We spent most of our time in the Hofbrau Haus with about 3000 other people.

Michelle and Jen were the belles of the ball - they wore traditional dirndls.

Final Africa Pix

2008-08-18T01:28:00.007Z

I realize that I was in Africa A YEAR AGO. So, in the spirit of finishing what I've started, here are a sampling of the last few days of the Spafari.

Leaving Botswana
On our last night in Botswana, we went on a stargazing drive. Here's Annie trying to read a starmap.

Our final leopard sighting. He just missed catching a zebra.

The ladies at Sandibe sent us off with a song and dance.... (sala!)

The trend toward smaller and smaller aircraft continued. This one was about the size of a VW Rabbit.

A final farewell from BT and KB. (Click to see larger view).

NAMIBIA

The border between Botswana and Namibia

Our flight was long, but arriving at Little Kulala made it all seem worthwhile.

The private deck at our chalet.

Everything about Namibia was different. The landscape was vast and colorless. Full of sand and dead things, but still beautiful. The camp offered to set up camp for us on the roof of our chalet so we could sleep under the stars. We considered it, then realized that the temperature would be around freezing, so we decided against it.

The view from the roof of our chalet.

Sundowners.

Our guide, Richard, pouring the champagne.

The animals were different. This is an Oryx that was hanging around the local watering hole.

Ostriches are also really common in Namibia.
As are references to Brangelina.

Fabulous sunsets, of course.

The main attraction in this part of Namibia is Sossusvlei, in the Namib Desert. Here there are enormous red sand dunes that constantly shift in the winds.

The day we ventured there, it was windy and uncomfortable. We looked like Bedouins.

Uncomfortable, but amazing.

We ended up at the famous Deadvlei. Which is dead. And a Vlei.

Our last morning was a lazy one. I spent it reading and watching the ostriches.

One last parting shot at the airport in Namibia:
We spent one last night in Namibia, in the capital of Windhoek. The Hotel Heinitzburg is a historic site.

Our last sunset and last glass of bubbly:

God, I wish I thought of this first.

2008-07-10T02:45:00.001Z

Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zlfKdbWwruY

Hippos, Leopards, Baboons, and Giraffes

2008-07-02T02:49:00.006Z

We had it all planned out. We were going to spend the evening on the mokoro, a canoe, being paddled down the river seeing the wildlife.

The wildlife had other plans.

When we arrived at the river, our tracker wanted to wait a few minutes before heading in. It was a good thing because there was a herd of hippos congregating in the river, just below the surface of the water. We sat and watched them a for a long time, while our guides told us terrifying real-life stories of people they'd known who had been killed by hippos.

It's interesting to realize that not only is our anthropomorphized version of hippos is not just absurd, it can kill you. You wouldn't think this cute little guy could outswim, outrun, and basically bite you in half, would you?

Well, he can!

So, we abandoned the makoros and went in search of the lions again.

On the way, we came across a troop of really angry baboons. They were hanging out in the trees, hollering at something.

Turns out, they were hollering at this guy. A very lazy leopard who was napping in the area. The baboons were keeping him awake, apparently, so he eventually took off. We followed him for a while. We didn't find the lions, but we did take time for a quick photo op with our guide, BT and KB.

On the way home, we saw beautiful giraffes and another amazing sunset.

Another Amazing Game Drive

2007-11-04T02:18:00.007Z

I just realized that I have a disturbing number of pictures
of Anne looking terrified near animals.
(Note: there are TWO elephants looming behind her.)

We came across three lionesses with cubs. They were so cute, I forgot they could kill me.

See?

But, awwww.

Then, KB got excited.
We were about to see something really cool.

A herd of Red Lechwe (antelope)
galloping across the water. Unbelievable.

This is a panoramic shot.

These letchwe were very close to the lioness and her cubs. BT and KB said that they could
coexist like this because the lions didn't have the element of surprise in their favor.
So, they won't bother trying to attack the letchwe. Lucky them.

The Elephant Whisperer

2007-11-04T01:07:00.000Z

The excitement never stops! When Anne and I left the chalet to meet the group for our evening game drive, this is what we saw:

Yup. An elephant on the path. Actually, there were 4 or 5 of them. It was scary, but kind of cool.

We did a little stealth operation to get around them. Kind of a rush!

Floating

2007-11-03T23:29:00.000Z

I woke up before the alarm and the beating drum of our wake up visit. I slept really well considering how nervous I was the night before.

It was cold in the chalet, no heater, but it's not nearly as cold in Botswana as it was in South Africa so it's not as bad as it could have been. Anne was still not happy, but I was feeling OK. I decided that I was going to just let myself enjoy the experience. Whatever. It's only 3 days. The place is gorgeous. It's not like being in the peace corps.

After a quick nosh, we headed out for the morning activity. Instead of the usual game drive, we were going out on a slow moving riverboat called "Lily" to check out the channels of the Santanadibe River and the flora and fauna.

Don't laugh. Those are my travellin' pants.

We didn't see any animals during the cruise, but it was a really relaxing way to spend the morning. The British family are shaping up to be good travel buddies; our ranger BT and tracker KB are really sweet.

Travellers

We had a little lesson about the various tribe of the Okavango. BT (short for Batsholelwang, whew) is part of the Hambukushu tribe which is known for cattle farming. KB is from the Bayei tribe, historically fishermen.

Anne and the boys

The only snag we hit was due to some industrious elephants who had trampled their way across the channel leaving tremendous stalks of papyrus in their wake. Our boat was in the weeds. BT and KB had some hard work ahead of them. We munched happily on dried fruit and biscuits while they freed us from the muck.

Traffic jam

Drinking the Night Away

2007-10-13T09:39:00.000Z

After dark, they came to get us for dinner. We told the porter that an elephant had very recently been near the chalet; he assured us the beast had moved on and out of camp.

Wrong.

As we started on the path to the main lodge, he quickly realized that the elephant(s) was still nearby. It was pitch black dark so we couldn't see him, but he was around. The porter hurried us through the path making hand signals and looking a little nervous. I was so scared that I grabbed Anne's hand and made her hold on unti we were safely at the lodge.

We made a solemn vow to drink ourselves silly. (Which, for the record, I followed through on - Anne wimped out.)

When we got to the lodge, they had a fire going and cocktails were on hand. The lodge managers and other staff chatted with us as the other guests started arriving from their evening game drive. There was a brother and sister act from LA, there with their mother (a judge!). A lovely gay couple from London. And our dinner companions, a British family of four (American mom, Dad, Oxford-student son, and Rachel McAdams lookalike daughter).

We met our ranger (BT) and tracker (KB) briefly before the evening's entertainment started. The ladies of the camp came out and began to sing; their lilting voices blending with natural harmonies. They looked like they were having a ball. I was really enjoying it. The other people in the room were watching them passively as if this is something you see every day. Anne looked horrified. She repeated the phrase that we'd been saying for hours: "Three nights!?!?"

Of course, the singers chose that moment to grab Anne's hand and drag her up for a dance. I was the next victim and before long everyone was up, dancing, laughing, slightly embarrassed, but giving it up as a lost cause to fun. It worked. The ice was broken.

After dinner in the Boma, we were schlepped back to the chalet. On the bed, there was a lovely note from the lodge manager welcoming us to Sandibe, along with a book with stunning photos and information about their other lodges. Nice.

Also nice: hot water bottles for the bed. We were both worried that we wouldn't sleep.

Next thing I knew it was morning.

Laundry

2007-10-13T09:29:00.000Z

One of the things that Anne and I had been eagerly awaiting was Sandibe's promise of free laundry service. We'd tried to pack light and as a result were pretty much wearing the same stuff over and over. Also, inexplicably, neither of us thought socks would be important. In Africa. In Winter. So. That was a problem.

But never fear, Botswana to the rescue. As promised, there was a laundry bag in the room waiting to be filled with our dainties. I took a minute to read the instructions for the laundry:

-Please leave your completed list together with your laundry on your bed.
-Laundry will be collected at 8am for same day service.
-All laundry, unless specified, is machine washed.
-Should the weather be inclement, all laundry will be tumble dried.
-Water is pumped from a borehole.
-Occasionally hyena and baboons raid the laundry yard.

The lodge accepts no responsibility whatsoever for guest clothing damaged during cleaning

Crap.

Elephant Crossing

2007-10-11T02:26:00.000Z

Admittedly we were both a little shaken up by the Great Sandwich Caper of 2007 and we just wanted to go back to our chalet and take a load off. As we started down the path towards the chalet, the lodge manager called softly to us to stop and walk back toward him. We soon saw what he saw: 4 fully grown ellies out for their afternoon stroll and mid-day snack.

The manager just made us wait a few minutes until they had veered enough off the path that we could scamper away to our chalet.

We got back to our chalet to relax (read: freak out over our anxiety at almost being trampled by an elephant. We're nothing if not overdramatic) and wait for dinner. Since dinner is served after dark, they'd be sending a porter to collect us.

There we were, minding our own business, when we heard the know familiar cracking and crunching that signified an elephant with a sweet tooth. This time, though, we could feel it, too. The chalet seemed to be vibrating. It was a little too Jurassic Park for my tastes. We turned off the lights. It was dark outside now and I thought we'd be able to see better. I didn't count on the fact that there is no light outside either, not even the moon. The cracking and crunching was getting so loud. I briefly held the flashlight to the window. There was a tusk the size of my arm just a few inches from that nanometer-thick screen separating Us from Them. There was an ellie right outside chowing down on a tree.

Turns out, these ellies have a schedule. They rarely deviate from it. And if that schedule includes high tea in front our our chalet, so be it.

A Monkey Eats Anne’s Lunch. Literally.

2007-10-04T02:16:00.000Z

We had already been warned several times already on the trip to be wary of the monkeys. Actually, what they normally said was something along the lines of “We’ve a bit of a monkey problem. So, just keep an eye out for them.”

Of course, we barely even saw a monkey up to this point. We’d heard a story of monkeys slipping into the chalet of two women at our first lodge (housekeeping was a little careless about keeping the doors closed as they straightened up the rooms). Several of the creatures got in and tore through the mini bar (read: small tray with some teabags, sugar, and a few cookies) and made off with a packet of Dairy Milk. No harm though, except that one pooped on the bed.

We’d soon find out that Botswana doesn’t do anything half-assed. The lodge manager offered to get us a late lunch before we rested up for dinner. I was wandering around the main lodge snapping pix while Anne was doing deep breathing and contemplating the relative benefits of benzos versus SSRIs in these situations. A few words on the lodge itself- just gorgeous, decorated in a colonial style with big leather sofas, cushy pillows, tons of old books and almanacs to peruse and a huge fireplace that would keep the place cozy at night. This too was wide open to the elements and the animals with nary a screen in sight.

When they brought our food, the monkeys started to take a much keener interest in these weary travelers. And before long, we were completely surrounded. Once again, too dumb to be afraid, I held my camera up to take a snap of a particularly brazen article who had made his way to the table next to ours. It was a rookie mistake, letting that little rat get so close. Before we knew it, the rascal had jumped right over Anne’s shoulder, grabbed half of her sandwich and retreated to a not-so-safe distance about 3 feet away.

Anne was shrieking. I was screeching a blue streak of curses that would make a sailor blush. The monkey was twitchy, but otherwise unconcerned. The staff came running. The lodge manager was wielding a gun. It was all very exciting. Even though the gun was a paint pellet shooter and the manager was a lousy shot, the monkeys hit the bricks and we made the manager stay with us until we were ready to go back to our chalet.

The Sandibe Experience

2007-10-03T22:14:00.001Z

The drive from Chitabe airstrip to Sandibe took 45 minutes; most of that time was spent driving through water. Botswana is already noticeably different from South Africa. It’s marshy and wet with unexpected sections of dry savannahs. The ride in the open Rover was bumpy, but we’re used to it by now and the weather was gorgeous. We sat in the back and tried to catch the last rays of the day.

We thought we were going straight to the lodge, but the driver had another plan. He pulled up and parked under a tree by the river (Anne immediately worried that we were going to be sold into white slavery or fed to a croc). They assumed we’d want to join the evening game drive, already in progress. Wrong. We were exhausted, hungry, and inappropriately dressed. So we headed back into the bush again, this time toward the lodge.

When we arrived at Sandibe, it was immediately clear that this was going to be a completely different experience than what we had in South Africa. For one thing, the lodge is fully open. There were vervet monkeys everywhere staring at us with their big old googly eyes.

Vervets. The bastards.

The main lodge

The lodge is situated right on the Santantadibe River – the view of the water is interrupted only by great clusters of tall grasses.

Private deck outside our chalet.

The grounds are not at all like the Earth Lodge or Simbambili – those lodges had manicured grounds with well-defined paths and electric lighting. Hah- not so our Sandibe. This was real safari – overgrown paths littered with fallen tree branches and elephant dung. Compared with where we’d been, this was like Girl Scout Camp with cocktails (and thank god for the booze).

Outside ouf our chalet.
The smaller round structure is the shower.

Of course, this is 4-star “camping” complete with butler service, laundry, fresh linens, comfy beds – who can complain?

But here’s the thing: the walls of our chalet? Not walls – screens. As in microthin layers of metal mesh as the only thing between Us and Them. You know who I’m talking about. Suddenly I realized, We’re the ones in the cages while They roam free.

Did I mention the outdoor shower?

And the “no electricity at night” rule?

Well – let me remedy that: the shower is outside. Where the animals and birds and rain are. And the cold, because, you see, its WINTER. The chalet, in spite of its charms was also lacking two other seemingly standard items: a phone and heat. A phone just in case we are set upon by a pride of lions. And heat, because, you see, it’s WINTER.

When we inquired about the phone, the porter produced an airhorn and told us that if we needed someone to come we should just use that.

While Anne fretted over the distinct possibility that she might suffer a myocardial infarction in the middle of the night and require emergency airlifting, I eyed the decanter of complimentary port and wondered if it was 5 o’clock yet.

Tight security is a major benefit of staying in the bush.

No one's gettin' in here!

He's Just My Bill

2007-09-24T23:39:00.000Z

I interrupt this blog to bring the link to Bill on TDS:

Modern Girl's Guide to Travel (Part 3)

2007-09-18T22:34:00.000Z

12 August (maybe)

Even though we know exciting things are still ahead, it's difficult to leave Sabi Sabi Earth Lodge and Sabi Sands Game Reserve. Especially because we know that we'll spend almost the entire day trying to get to our next destination.

I am on and off planes so often for work, that it barely registers as anything more than a bus ride. But this itinerary was a little ridiculous.

Sabi Sands to Johannesburg
We were picked up mid-safari to get shuttled to the airstrip to start our trip toward Botswana. The great thing about this was that a tracker called Crimson was our driver so we had a mini-safari on the way there We encountered fresh hyena dung (score!), male kudu, a warthog (our first) barreling hell for leather out of a termite mound, and a herd of rhino. Finally on arriving at the airstrip:

Look closely. Yes, those are elephants. On the runway.

In other "how did we get here?" news: the airstrip had a departures lounge. The pictures make it look like a cave and really don't do it justice. It was an oasis in the middle of the bush. Plus, more biltong!

Just about the last thing we expected to see.
A definite step up from the American Airlines Admiral's Club.

Relaxing in the cave/lounge.

Jetting off to Jo-Burg

Johannesburg to Maun
Johannesburg was chaotic, as expected. We didn't get shanghaied this time and we finally found clean socks (with giraffes on them!)

Our flight to Maun was on Air Botswana, which Anne affectionately dubbed "Air Souvlaki" as a throwback to a vacation through Greece where puddle-jumpers were the norm. I would have welcomed a bit of souvlaki to be honest. The food was vile.

On the flight, I noticed a family (mom, dad, 2 boys) who were just too funny. They were very preppy-oozing Lacoste and Todd's. The boys were carbon copies of their dad. I was eavesdropping on them and could hear that although the boys had proper English prep-school accents, mom and dad sounded like they were fresh from the Vineyard.

Jo-burg to Maun, Botswana.
At least this one had real flight attendants.

Maun Airport is, according to some reports, the second-largest airport in Botswana. Scary.

Maun to Moremi Airstrip
After braving the immigration process into Botswana (one person for about 200 people, and three count 'em three forms), we were met by a representative from CC Africa who was delivering us to the flight that would take us to Moremi Game Reserve.

Coincidentally, the Prep Squad was already there, waiting to board the 8-seater flight with us. Not only did they end up being super nice (making me burn with shame for having mocked them for wearing penny loafers and canvas belts), but in one of those mind-blowing small world situations, I discovered that they live ON MY STREET in London.

Hi, Neighbor!

Don't know if you can tell from this picture-
but check out the father-sons matching outfits.

Anne and I did not have matching outfits,
but we did have matching luggage!

Our first glimpse of the Okavango Delta

Disembarking in style

Moremi Airstrip to Sandibe
Once we landed at Moremi Airstrip, we still had a 45-minute drive ahead to get to the Sandibe game lodge. The ride was long, but beautiful. The sun was strong, we were in an open-air rover and I could feel the stale air of the last 2 flights being blown off of me as we cruised along. It's warmer here in Botswana and the mosquitoes buzz along. But thoughts of bug bites, malarial infection, and animal attacks were far from my mind as the rover charged into the water, wheel-high. It's different out here. And that is a very good thing.

Our chariot awaits

The sun in my face, the wind in my hair.

Driving through water

Safari Lodge of the Rich and Famous

2007-09-09T00:00:00.000Z

On the morning of our last day at Earth Lodge, we had time to do part of the morning game drive, so Ranger Chris set up an "RV" (ranger code for "rendez-vous" ooh lala) which meant that when we pulled over for morning coffee, Stephan-the-Hot came to pick us up and take us to the airstrip.

On the drive, StheH told us about some of the famous people who have recently stayed at Earth Lodge: Anna Kournikova, Wesley Snipes, the King of Spain! Most recently, Ryan Reynolds (sans Alanis, avec screenwiter. hmmm - curious) and Don Cheadle (who surprised them all by booking under a false name).

His favorite was Holly Hunter. As with most celebs, her people had requested that she and her family have totally private game drives, meals, etc. Part of the culture of these places is mixing with new people. When H2 and her group saw how much fun the others were having, they promptly decided to skip the exclusive drives and join some random group. See? Celebrities are just like us!

Dinner in the Boma

2007-09-08T23:42:00.000Z

Dinner is a big affair at these lodges. You can come in casual dress, but this one night, when we got back from our evening game drive, one of the lodge employees was taking advantage of the mild weather. She was wearing a pair of cute strappy sandals.

I was grungy, unbathed, and on day 4 of the same socks. I'd had it. I decided to break out the one thing that I had frivolously packed: my cute gold wedges. Take that strappy sandals girl!

We made our entrance into the Boma, which is an outdoor area that was historically used to trap animals (I guess in a sense it still is). They had it beautifully lit with fire pits and torches. The food was very good and the wine was even better.

Unlike our first lodge, the Rangers here stay with you through dinner acting as host. Chris was a good dinner companion for us. Anne and I were joking with him about his schedule: 40 days straight of work, then 10 days off. Later, we considered that this might be the perfect job - doing what you love to do every single day, then getting a couple of weeks off every month or so. But then Anne shone the harsh light of reality on the issue: "Yeah, but it's 40 nights in a row of client dinners." Yeah. Strike that idea.

Matching jackets. Awwww.

Too bad you can't see my shoes. They are fab.

Bush Walks and Nosy Elephants

2007-09-08T23:17:00.000Z

The Earth Lodge offers guided bush walks in addition to the drives. After the morning drive, I was the only one interested in the bush walk, so Ranger Chris, his rifle, and I set off for a one-hour trek. After a mildly worrying "safety review" (including "Stay behind the rifle, so if I have to shoot something I won't accidentally shoot you." eek!), Chris asked me what I was interested in seeing during the walk. These walks normally focus on flora and fauna vs big game, especially since you don't really want to meet any big game while you're on foot. So, only hesitating a moment, I told him what I really wanted to look at: dung.

I know. I know it's gross. But I can't help it. It's so fascinating. I was worried that Chris would be horrified by my interest in all things scatological. But I needn't have worried. In fact, I think he too has a love of animal poo. Off we went, Chris pointing out all kinds of interesting things but also not neglecting "two-sie" specimens where appropriate (elephants, hyena, wildebeests, oh my!).

At one point we saw an elephant in the near-ish distance. I asked Chris if the ellie knew we were around. He thought that he could probably hear us, but since we're downwind he wouldn't be able to pick up our scent.

We also investigated a huge termite mound (abandoned, of course). The termites build them over the course of years. It's amazing how large they get. But eventually, they abandon the mound and something else moves in, usually a warthog.

Speaking of warthogs, Chris was full of useful tips on not getting killed by one. They apparently can charge right through you (literally, breaking you in half) if they are spooked. So, don't spook a warthog, folks. It's just not safe.

Later

On another game drive, we had yet another close encounter of the wild kind. This elephant surprised us by coming closer rather than lumbering off as they usually do.

I didn't use the zoom on this one!

It's OK, Anne. As long as he's got a tree to chomp, he won't bother with you.

Sabi Sabi Earth Lodge

2007-09-08T22:15:00.000Z

11 August 07 (according to my journal)

When we arrived at Sabi Sabi Earth Lodge, we were surprised because we couldn't actually see it. According to the website: "Earth Lodge is a sanctuary symbolising a new era in luxury South African safari lodges. Sculpted into a slope of the earth, almost invisible in the landscape, the lodge uses texture, light and space to present a lodge like no other. Taking its cue from the surrounding environment, it has been described as the most environmentally sensitive lodge in Africa." And how. It's a very special place. My pictures don't do it justice.

Late lunch at Earth Lodge

This lodge is also run by a couple - the gorgeous Stephan and his equally stunning (and very pregnant) wife, Nadia. Our suite (again, a private structure- we started referring to them as chalets) was gorgeous and comfortable. It was set off a ways from the main lodge, so they drove us there in a golf cart. Since the suites are built into the ground, I was worried that it would be like a cave - I was wrong. Floor to ceiling glass windows make up one whole side of the suite, the side that overlooks the bushveld. A verandah with a plunge pool, Jetsons-meets-Flintstones bathroom with a deep stone tub and absurdly powerful shower, a decanter of port. Anne and I keep looking at each other saying, "Who do we think we are?"

Then we steal the soap.

The view from within our chalet

Anne outside #6

After lunch, we met our Ranger, Chris. He and our new tracker, Zeblon, would be taking care of us over the next two three days. Although our loyalties to Dean and Mampsie remained strong, we had to admit that Chris and Zeb made a great team. It was at Sabi Sabi that we saw our first lions (rounding out the Big 5).

Female lions scoping out the territory

The crazy things nature does. Two trees that have grown together.

On our first morning at Sabi Sabi, our wakeup knock was at 5:30 am. This is my least favorite part of the trip. The time between the first shrills of the Blackberry alarm clock at around 5:20 to the overly chipper "Hello!! Good morning!!" of the wakeup knock to the time when I am feeling alert enough to brush my teeth (about 5:40) are just painful. It's dark and cold. I'm cranky and crusty and I consider telling Chris and Zeb to go scratch. But then I remember: we're going on a drive! So I put on my seven layers of clothing to guard against the winter chill, check to make sure I have fresh batteries for the camera, and it's all good again.

Chris and Zeb find leopard tracks. But they are a day old.

Female kudu

Male waterbuck

White rhino. Unusual because these are both males.

Blue wildebeest and impala. Frozen in terror, I expect.

Do these stripes make my butt look big?

The circle of life

Anne is struck with the urge to paint at Earth Lodge

Chris and Zeb, our heroes!

Sundowner drinks. That's my lucky leopard scarf!

Modern Girl's Guide to Travel (Part 2)

2007-09-08T18:25:00.000Z

Leaving Simbambili

We were so sad to leave our first game lodge, but excited to see what would come next. When telling fellow travellers that we were heading to Sabi Sabi Earth Lodge, many told us how they'd heard it was fabulous. One guy offered to accompany us and carry our bags (we almost took him up on that).

When we first booked the trip, we didn't understand a lot of the notes in the intinerary. It might say "private transfer." We'd come to find that sometimes that meant a car, sometimes a plane, sometimes a car to a plane to another plane to another plane to a car.

Luckily, the lodge manager would usually sort it out for us while we were out stalking rhinos or sipping on pinotage.

After raiding the lodge curio for long-sleeved t-shirts, woolly caps, and (unsuccessfully) clean socks, we hopped into the waiting SUV to begin the three-hour drive to Sabi Sabi. It's still in the same overall game reserve (known as Sabi Sands) but further south. Sabi Sands borders the Kruger National Park and contains many safari lodges like the ones we stayed in.

Map of Sabi Sands Game Reserve

The World Outside

During the drive, we passed through the small towns of South Africa and for the first time got a glimpse of life outside the carefully planned world of the modern safari traveller.

We'd drive for miles and miles and not see a soul or structure. Then, in clusters, came the towns and the people. We passed modest homes, schools, and local businesses. Some were large and modern, some no more than tin shacks. Some businesses had professionally commissioned signs ("Stop/Shop!") others had hand-lettered placards that got right to the point ("Fruit"). Vendors sat on the side of the road in plastic chairs selling everything from apples to haircuts with optimism (Look Good! Salon!). One sign simply read: SURGERY, hand-written, lopsided, in red paint.

We stopped once for a bathroom break. The driver of course chose a place with a well-stocked curio. This was to become something of a given during our trip - one thing about Anne and me: we always make time for retail.

In the Dark

2007-09-05T04:14:00.000Z

About halfway through the evening game drives we always find a nice spot to pull over for “sundowners.” Cocktails, conversation -- it’s all quite civilized.

After a few days, I started to look forward to this point in the drive. Not because of the wine (though lovely), biltong (which I first ate only to freak Anne out, then I decided I kind of liked it), or the stunning sunsets (how have I lived without seeing sunsets every day? Do we even have sunsets in New York?).

It was because it meant that soon it would be dark. And in the dark, amazing things happen.

A few words about this particular brand of dark: it’s really, well, dark. Think – no lights around for miles except the headlights of the Rover and a small handheld spot that the tracker shines into trees to try and spot creatures of the night. The rule in the bush is that they only use the light to spot nocturnal animals, which include all of the big cats, hyenas, and some birds. What they won’t do is shine the light on animals that are diurnal (that is, they are most active by day). This includes all of the antelope species, giraffe, and elephant.

One night, we were rumbling along at a slow pace when our ranger cut the lights, turned off the engine, and motioned for all of us to stay quiet. We had come upon a trio of ellies traveling near the road. We happened to stop the car directly beside them. They froze; I held my breath.

There was a large female with two smaller ones. The littlest one was facing the Rover with his ears perked up and trunk extended toward us. If our tracker had leaned over, he could have given the little guy a pat on the head. We’d already been told that elephants, although thoroughly habituated to humans in vehicles, can get spooked in the dark by sudden noises or lights. A panicked ellie is generally considered a Very Bad Thing. If those elephants had charged us they could have trampled the Rover “as easily as we kick a can of Coke,” according to our ranger. We were all so quiet I could hear my own heartbeat.

The mama started snuffling and snorting, signs that with even my limited ranger skills (read: none) I took to mean that she wasn’t too thrilled with the smelly rumbly animal with round feet and ten heads getting so close to her babies. She herded them away from the vehicle and we moved on.

Over the course of our safari adventure, we'd have more close encounters like this. These were the times that our experience somehow seemed more real. There were no photo ops, no conversations, just Us and Them. In the Dark.

Animal Encounters

2007-09-04T01:00:00.000Z

I've Lost Track of the Days

I can tell I'm finally in full vacation mode. I have no idea what day it is. Luckily, Anne is in charge of the itinerary and reminds me that we're (tearfully) leaving Simbambili to get to our next safari game lodge.

But first: We had enough time to go on the morning game drive with Dean and Mamps where we saw more elephants and visited the hyena cubs we'd discovered the day before. Oddly cute.

On the topic of hyenas, we had a brief encounter with one the other night. We were just finishing up dinner in the lodge, which is a gorgeous, open-air space, when several people gasped in surprise. I turned my head just in time to see the spotted furry rump of a full-grown male hyena leaving the room. I guess he thought he'd pop in to see if there were any leftovers, but decided not to bother when he saw all of us dirty humans in the place.

The game lodges are not fenced in so the animals have free reign of the place. We're warned that we could have face-time with any number of wild beasts, so there you go. Hyena fun fact: their jaws have more crushing power than the jaws of life. So, they can eat almost anything and they especially like to chomp on bones. Hence, their dung is white.

One particularly cool thing we did on our morning game drive was to track two rhinos on foot. We had seen them grazing and after the requisite photo-ops, Dean and Mampsie suggested that we try to "walk the rhino." I was psyched (and I think a little too dumb to be scared).

There were eight of us, plus our tracker and ranger. Dean drove the Rover about 1/4 mile away and gave us our instructions: walk single file behind Mamps, no talking, no photos, do what Mamps does. Sir, yes Sir.

Mamps walked us back to the site. Apparently rhinos are pretty easy to track because they have very poor eyesight. Of course, they weigh about 3000 pounds, so you don't want to startle them. When we got within about 30 yards Mamps bent over forward. We bent over forward and stayed close. Then he crouched. We crouched and moved on. Then, almost crawling, Mamps scaled a termite mound. We crawled and scaled behind him until we were about 10 yards from the rhinos. I was holding my breath, my heart was racing, I think from a combination of the crouching, crawling, and scaling along with the fact that we were STALKING RHINOS. The rhinos, however, were onto us; they skittered away with all the grace that two two-ton tessies can muster. I guess we won't make such great trackers after all.

Leopards!

2007-08-28T22:09:00.000Z

We were really lucky at Simbambili to see leopards more than once during our stay. Our first siting was a female who had treed an impala. When we first saw her, the poor deceased impala was in the tree and the leopard was lounging in the grass. Just chillin'.

We visited her again after dark and she was in the tree, chowing down. In the moment it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Later when I looked at the pictures it just seemed gross.

This is another leopard. A male we followed for quite a ways.

More Photos

2007-08-26T02:30:00.001Z

We Got Game

2007-08-26T01:30:00.001Z

8 August

We landed at this tiny airstrip seemingly in the middle of nowhere and were met by 2 guys in a Land Rover who drove us to our first private game reserve, Simbambili. The driver, Lucky, was adorable and kept up a nervous and incomprehensible monologue - we think he was pointing out the sites, but can't be sure.

On the way we saw our first glimpses of "big game" in the wild - a herd of impala. Lucky told us that we'd definitely see the "big 5" (lion, leopard, water buffalo, rhino, and elephant) as well as others like giraffe and zebra.

We weren't exactly sure what to expect when we finally arrived at the lodge, but I can tell you we were not disappointed. Our ranger, Dean, and his gal Jill met us with cold vanilla-infused towels and homemade iced tea. They gave us the quick rundown of the place, including our schedule for the rest of the day, which thankfully started with free time (aka nap time).

The cabins at Simbambili

Lucky and his million-dollar smile

Our cabin is amazing, beautifully decorated with a private verandah overlooking a busy watering hole. There was a huge outdoor lounge bed and a plunge pool (too bad it was too cold to swim!).

The verandah

The schedule for the day includes a sunrise game drive (wake up time 5:00 am!) and an evening game drive that begins at 4:00pm. We found ourselves with a group of 8, including us, which is exactly half of the guests at the lodge. Dean and our tracker, Mamps, took us out in a tricked out Land Rover (open-air with ultra-reinforced undercarriage, a gun rack and a cocktail table) for a 3.5 hour trip around the bush.

Ranger Dean

Mamps the Tracker

Mamps sits on a special chair that is mounted to the hood of the Rover and keenly looks for animals, their tracks or dung, points out passable trails and obstacles and generally tells Dean where to go. Dean drives the Rover and keeps up a running commentary on the animals, including birds and bugs, as well as the surrounding plants and trees. We soon learn that Mamps doesn't say much, but he's like a Zen monk often giving just a small hand gesture to let Dean know that he's spotted something interesting.

Dean and Mamps mostly communicate with each other, and the other ranger/tracker teams over the radio, in Shangaan, also known as Tsonga, one of South Africa's 11 official languages. It makes the drive more mysterious, becuase you never really know what they are following we finally see it, or they decide that they want to tell us.

On this first drive, our first major siting was a herd of older male water buffalo (a bachelor herd) that have not managed to gain control over a breeding herd, and are now essentially on their own. They were hanging around the watering hole directly outside our lodge.

Water buffalo. They remind me of old time judges.

See?

We were driving crazily up and down rocky hills, running over small trees and lord knows how many small animals - when we were suddenly almost in the middle of about 12 elephants. It was incredible- there were 2 really huge females and 2-3 really adorable little ones.

I just can't get over these animals. I've been to zoos before, but this is unreal. How do they exist? My mind is officially blown.

Trio of Ellies

One of my favorite pictures so far.

At the watering hole with the Buffalo

Anne on the Rover

We were wlecomed back each night with hot towels and a glass of port.
Rough life.

Modern Girl's Guide to Travel (Part 1)

2007-08-23T17:10:00.000Z

8 Aug 07

I'm definitely going to need a vacation from my vacation. With the exception of the lazy stretch of day in Franschhoek, our days are jam-packed and there is no end in site. I can't complain though, we're having an amazing time. The problem is that I don't get to write everything down until toward the end of the day and I feel like I've forgotten so much. Also, who knew my handwriting was so bad? The nuns would have a field day. I looked through my journal and thought I'd have to send it off to the Navajo people to decode it.

Big travel day today. The alarms shrieked us out of bed at 5-oh-oh. Weirdly, both Anne and I have our blackberry alarms set to "Antelope." Our driver was coming at 5:30 am to take us to the airport (12 Apostles, we hardly knew ye!) for our flight to Johannesburg. From Jo-Burg, we were catching another flight into the Kruger National Park area for our first safari game lodge.

A few words about the prep for this trip. I've never been one for prophylactic medicine, but when you are traveling to sub-saharan africa (or anywhere else in Africa, India, southeast asia, and parts of the Middle East) the CDC tends to want to get involved. So, about 6 weeks before the trip, I made an appointment with my PCP and had her fix me up with all the antibodies I could handle.

I was vaccinated for: hep A, typhoid, and polio. I was due for a tetanus shot so they gave me the old one-two punch of tetanus/diphtheria. Plus I left with prescriptions for Cipro and Diflucan and a lecture on the dangers of traveller's diarrhea . Last but not least, a course of mefloquine to combat malaria. I have to take it once a week starting the week before travel and take it weekly until 3 weeks after I return to civilization.

If I thought my medicine bag was full, get a load of Anne's:

Although I admit that I dipped into it more than once.
There's always room for Advil!

Loading up on Malarone and dramamine before the flight.

The flight from Capetown to Jo-Burg was uneventful (always a good thing). And check out our cool plane:

It was at Jo-Burg that we finally started to feel like we were really in Africa. We got hustled at the airport by two "porters" who insisted on helping us with our bags. We had to tip them to get rid of them. Luckily, they were satisfied with 5 Rand apiece (roughly 80 cents). Ah, the almighty dollar yet lives!

Our next flight was interesting. There were actually 2 planes on the tarmac waiting for us to carry a total of 18 passengers. Turned out that 16 of them were all together - one big happy family split between 2 tiny, tin can planes. Off to the bush to celebrate their Grandpa's (aka "the Colonel") 70th B-day.

Anne and I were in the slightly larger plane with the Colonel and the rest of his brood. The Colonel and I were stuck in the very back of the plane (I was in charge of the refreshments, not kidding). We were going to land at their camp first then take off again to get us to our camp.

Significantly smaller plane. You will notice a trend emerging here.

At least we can make sure the captain stays awake.

I missed my calling. Coffee, tea, or me?

The Colonel and I gabbed for most of the flight. He was full of theories about how the Muslims are systematically taking over the world. Meanwhile, up front, Anne played Flo Nightingale to a teenager with a nosebleed.

The flight was surprisingly smooth, except for the last 5 minutes when I think I may have re-discovered Jesus and almost let the Colonel re-baptize me with his orange Fanta.

This is not my beautiful life!

Capetown

2007-08-22T19:56:00.001Z

Tuesday, 7 August

What a day. I'm totally exhausted. We had an early start because Christna was picking us up to take us into Capetown. My phone actually rang at 6:30 in the morning. I didn't recognize the number and I couldn't think who would be calling me at that hour. It's too early in Europe or UK and too late in NYC. No message. I actually obsessed over it for a little while, then finally shook it off. I regretted caving into the need for technology.

After photo-op-ing FCH, we headed out for the day. Our first stop was to see the penguins at Boulders National Park. They are so cute, and so out-of-place here.

The Welcoming Committee

They used to call these guys "jackass" penguins because their call sounds like a donkey. But I guess the penguins got offended, so now they just call them "African."

"Who you callin' a jackass?"

Anne at Boulders.

Our luck with the weather held out a little longer as we headed out toward Cape Point and the Cape of Good Hope. We took the funicular way up the mountains to get to the place where you hike to Cape Point. Once there, I was reminded not for the first time this trip how out of shape I am. We had to climb up a number of stairs to get to the lighthouse at Cape Point and I was sucking wind. Once I could breathe normally, I realized that it's kind of trippy to be at the tip of Africa.

Cape of Good Hope.
Total misnomer - loads of people died here on their way to the Cape.
They should have called it the Cape of Hope Against Hope.

Cape Point - most southwestern tip of Africa.

Pass the Dutchie.
These old Coke machines were in the funicular waiting area.

Yet another thing baboons and I have in common.

We grabbed a quick lunch and tried to make it to Table Mountain before the weather changed. But our luck ran out. Table Mountain is known for being covered with thick fog (nicknamed the "table cloth") which makes it impossible to see anything. We decided to go up anyway since we were there.

Yup. Can't see anything. And, it was cold!

Later on, as luck would have it, the fog started to clear.

We drove around a bit more and stopped for more scenic photo ops. I really wanted to buy a better camera so we headed off to the V&A Waterfront. Yes, a mall. Wonders never cease.

New camera purchased (contrary to my original belief that the strong dollar conversion would get me a great deal; I paid double what I would have paid in NYC. Bygones.) we headed to our hotel for the night, The Twelve Apostles.

It's a fabulous hotel in Camps Bay, which is actually not a very central location. We didn't care too much since we weren't planning on going out anyway, we had a really early flight out to Johannesburg in the morning.

The Twelve Apostles Hotel, from their website.

With the new camera

Sunset from the veranda

Rainy Days and Mondays

2007-08-22T18:59:00.001Z

Sunday, 6 August

Cold, rainy day. Hard to believe it's the same place that gave us such beautiful weather yesterday. Well, it is winter after all. They say that in Capetown you can experience all four seasons in one day.

It was a great excuse for us to just relax and do nothing for most of the day. We had originally hired Christna again to take us into Capetown, but she advised us to reschedule since the weather was so bad. She came all the way over to the hotel anyway, just in case we were psychotic enough to want to go, so we invited her to join us for coffee. After a pleasant breakfast, gossiping with Christna and Anne about celebrities (Christna is firmly on "Team Aniston", BTW, and thinks that Lindsay Lohan should just grow up already!), Anne and I adjourned to the lounge to do a little SSR by the fire.

"Hooray for Franschhoek!" Note the sign on the hill over my shoulder.

The day was so low-key; it felt great to do nothing and not feel guilty about it. Anne was considering a nap, so we moved from the communal lounge back to our building. I decided to sit in the "Great Room" so I could dig into Wine and War in honor of our surrounds. I was disappointed that the fire wasn't roaring away when I got there. I briefly considered calling a porter but that seemed a little too Upstairs, Downstairs so I perused the bookshelf instead.

No sooner had a turned away than a heard a scraping noise. There was a maid lighting the fire. I froze for a second and thought, weirdly, Did I conjure her? Summon her with my heretofore hidden psychic abilities? I prayed silently for magical powers, just as I had when I was a kid. I promise I will only use my powers for good!

Turns out they are just stalking us because we are the only guests in the place today, since all the weekenders have checked out.

The Great Room.

Lovely hour (plus catnap) by the fire, then off to lunch at La Petit Ferme. It's said to be the best restaurant in town, impossible to get a table in the summer. Even for a winter Monday, it was pretty crowded.

La Petit Ferme sits alone on a hill overlooking the vineyards. It's got a rustic farmhouse vibe and a fabulous wine list. I ordered the ostrich roulade (I had to look up roulade. Fancy!) Anne was detoxing after the previous day's wine tour, but I indulged in a nice pinotage. Yum.
I was starting to feel a little good twin/bad twin. Especially when I ordered a creme brulee and she got a fruit plate.

We spent most of the afternoon in town browsing through the shops, looking for local art. We didn't buy anything, but were almost tempted by the "Adopt an African Baby" display.

Just like Madonna!

Dinner at another great restaurant, Reuben's. The hotel basically chauffeured us anywhere we wanted to go (another perk of being the only people around!) When the driver picked us up from dinner, he called ahead to the hotel and had them light the fire in our room. Then he offered to send up a glass of port as a nightcap. Classy!

I've sort of made a habit out of checking out the mini-bars in every country I visit. There is always a Toblerone. And usually, something unique to the area (churros in Barcelona) or just plain weird (free condoms in Paris).

Africa is no different. In the mini-bar we found this vaccuum-sealed bag of mystery clump. Our hypothesis (some sort of jerky?) was eventually proven correct. It was biltong, or dried meet. Very common throughout Africa and considered a very tasty treat.

Toblerone never lets me down.

Looks yummy, doesn't it?

Bacchanal

2007-08-21T20:27:00.000Z

Sunday, 5 Aug - Later

After a powernap, we were ready to face the day. It was such a beautiful day - the cold went away, temporarily, and left a Spring day. The hotel employees suggested that we take an afternoon wine tour and hooked us up with a great tour guide named Christna.

Christna is a young-ish local girl, born in Namibia, but living in Franschhoek for years. She's a former sommelier and now runs her own tour business, mostly specializing in the vineyards of Franschhoek, Stellenbosch, and the surrounds.

We visited three "wine farms" and tasted so many beautiful wines. Best of all, we were able to turn our faces to the sun for a while. I don't know about you, but I am the palest I've been in years! London summers are ridiculous.

Dieu Donne - gorgeous view, five wines tasted.

Mont Rochelle, the second stop, had a nice cheese plate and a checkered past. As we sampled four more wines, Christna filled us in. The first owner was a Dutchman who may or may not have thrown his wife overboard on the crossing from Europe to South Africa and who may or may not have married a new, younger woman on that same voyage! Scandal!

More recently, the farm was owned by a land-hungry Italian who wanted to build golf courses but couldn't get the zoning. He bribed a bunch of politicians and was caught. The Italian was deported, the politicos went to jail, and now some Belgian owns the joint.

Anne and Christna

Among the casks

Lushes.

Another fabulous view.

The last place was the most upscale, which is a problem after you've had nine glasses of wine. Apparently all the celebs go there, but luckily we didn't run into any of them. The paparazzi just drive me crazy. Three more wines and I was ready for bed. We had a quick dinner at the FCH restaurant, but I could barely keep my eyes open.

First Stop: Franschhoek

2007-08-21T18:59:00.000Z

Sunday, 5 August; Franschhoek Country House and Villas

We've arrived! I slept about 6 hours on the flight and am still feeling a bit snoozy. Our first stop is the town of Franschhoek (Afrikaans for "French Corner" a throwback to when the French colonized parts of South Africa). This area, about an hour from Capetown, is known as the Winelands which makes a lot of sense because of all the vineyards. Duh.

I have to admit I had this tiny fear that when we arrived in Africa there wouldn't be a vacation. That we will have fallen for an elaborate and very expensive scam and that we'd be spending two weeks at the Capetown Holiday Inn. But, as promised, there was a driver there at the airport to hurry us off to our hotel. Yea!

The driver was very friendly and he pointed out the sights (such as they were) as he drove, only occasionally swerving into oncoming traffic. What's already blowing my mind about this place is that the area we were in is fairly metropolitan, kind of like Columbus, Ohio. Then, suddenly, zebras. Just like that. Zebras. Go figure.Anne outside the Villas.

It's winter here, so it's actually a little bit cold. The FCH is very cozy, they have working fireplaces in all of the common areas and big comfy sofas that are just perfect for SSR.* We arrived early and our room wasn't ready yet. I think the staff had visions of us passing out in the lounge so they gave us a temporary room to use to rest a while. Good call.

It was so quiet. Probably because we were the only guests.

As the Brits say, there's the water feature.

Lavendar was everywhere- it smelled like a nap.

Lemons. Another motif.

*Sustained Silent Reading. Shout out to the Archdiocese of Philadephia!

Into Africa

2007-08-20T20:04:00.000Z

4 August 2007, On Board BA flight 058 London-Capetown

This is going to be good. Very good. I'm sitting on board a big, ol' jet airliner waiting to be carried too far away. Away from London and work and RL. (That's "real life", not "Ralph Lauren." Although I certainly hope I don't run into him.)

My friend Anne and I have been plotting this months - 2 full weeks in Africa. Anne is, like me, in advertising. And is, like me, suffering from a serious case of "How the Hell Did I Get Myself Into This?" Syndrome (HtHDIGMIT, for short.) I've become such a psycho that when planning this trip, I actually wrote a brief in which (in an unintentional homage to the the world's worst personal ad) I described us as "Two thirty-something professional women, overworked, overstressed (but otherwise healthy) seasoned travellers." I think our poor, beleaguered, South African travel agent was secretly appalled, but she managed to maintain a cheerful disposition as Anne and I attempted to drive her insane with little tweaks and questions.

I had vowed, to anyone who would stand still long enough, that I was abandoning all my technology during this trip. To that end, Anne and I defiantly left our cell phones, blackberrys, laptops, and even iPods behind*.

*Strictly speaking, it's not actually true.
We both brought one cell phone each, for "emergencies."
We're not total Luddites, after all.

I have very high hopes for this trip and so far it's off to a great start. Due to my manic travel schedule over the last 18 months, I've accumulated enough miles to fly the almost 12-hour flight from London to Capetown in first class. BA has really kicked it up a notch, I guess to compete with Virgin Atlantic's Upper Class service. On board, I was personally escorted to my seat, greeted by name, and presented with a gift bag and a pair of fleecy PJs. I immediately changed into the over sized jammies and settled in for the overnight flight. Too late, I realized that everyone else has the class to wait until after the meal service to change. Ah, well. More champagne! Bring me my Ambien!

Our itinerary is jam-packed (As my UK boss said, "It's just so American!"): We spend the first week in South Africa (3 nights in the Capetown/Winelands and 4 nights in the Sabi Sands private game reserve); next stop: 3 nights in Botswana near the Okavango Delta; and finally 3 nights in Namibia.

As we began our descent, I looked out the window and saw the coast of South Africa. Again I thought: this is going to be good.

First glimpse of the Dark Continent

SpaFari 2007

2007-08-06T08:14:00.000Z

What a difference a year makes. This blog has been neglected, shamefully neglected. How will I ever catch up?

I am on the move again, onto new adventures. I've been living in London for the past year, buried in work and traveling through Europe and doing about 1 transatlantic trip per month.

Downside: jet lag, chronic sinus infections, acute ennui.
Upside: frequent flier miles!

So, I've cashed in my miles and embarked on a 2-week African "SpaFari" adventure with my friend AnnieB.

I will likely not post again until after I get back, but rest assured I am taking copious notes and will return in true Hindsley style with observations, embarrassing stories (not to mention cringe-worthy photos) and links to my fave destinations.

Falcon Crest

2006-11-19T20:21:00.000Z

I just got a few more pictures from Budapest. While I was out sightseeing with Tina and Matt, we met this creepy guy and his falcon. He said that for 2 euros, I could hold his bird.

Pervert.

"Little bird, are you admiring my tan?"

"Put on this glove, my little American, and trust me."

They say that falcons smell fear.

Finally, I have my moment.

I Met an Astronaut!

2006-11-05T18:09:00.000Z

In Budapest, we had a big dinner for all of the meeting attendees. The keynote speaker was a real-live NASA astronaut! Shannon Lucid is a fascinating character. She's logged more hours in space than any non-Russian and the most of any woman. She spent 6 months aboard the space station MIR with two Russians named Yuri.

She was full of fun stories about her time in the space program. Like the time that one of the Yuris told her to go stick her face against the window to get some sunshine (she was vitamin D deficient). After 30 seconds she had sunburn as if she'd been out for hours. Fun!

Shannon exercising in space. Astronauts are required to work out 2 hours a day!

The Museum of Applied Sciences.

The attendees

Me with Shannon and Shannon's snazzy jacket.

The place looked really beautiful before we went in and messed it up.

The quintet was really good. The old guy in the front kept winking at me.

Budapest Day 3

2006-11-05T17:48:00.000Z

Our meetings adjourned at noon and we had the rest of the day to ourselves. I spent the day sightseeing with my client, Tina, and her boyfriend, Matt. It was such a gorgeous day (this global warming thing may not be so bad after all!) that we decided to go up to the castle district to look around. We took public transport across to the “Buda” section of town. We paid about 1200 Flargons for a day pass that would get us on all the trams, buses, and undergrounds for the full day. We only ended up using it for one trip, but it was still fairly inexpensive compared to a cab.

The Buda side of town looked much better this time around; mainly because we bypassed a lot of the area I had covered on Thursday, and went straight up the mountain (hill?) to the nice section. It was all very quaint – cobblestone streets, the remains of the castle, churches, and other historical buildings. There is so much construction going on that it’s nearly impossible to walk even one block without encountering a major tear down project. It’s easy to believe that this was very recently a war-torn nation

There are lots of cute cafes along the river.

View from the castle district.

We made him do this. It was actually a little dangerous. Tee hee.

Matt and Tina

The view at dusk.

I just liked this building.

The best part is... the owner put a Club on the steering wheel.

Some cathedral.

These are the ruins of a church.

The Hungarians love their dogs.

The Four Seasons. We didn't stay there.

No need to bring your own blanket to these cafes!

The Castle

Budapest Day 1

2006-11-05T17:22:00.000Z

I was in Budapest a couple of weeks ago for a series of client meetings. It was busy, busy, busy but I did have a couple of opportunities to walk around town and see some of the sights.

The Opera House

The National Gallery

They have whole shops devoted to chandeliers. I never knew where to buy a chandelier. Now I do.

How do you get to Carne Di Hall?
Practice, practice, practice.

Shopping with the locals.

The Chain Bridge

View of Buda and the Chain Bridge.

View of "Pest." That's Parliement behind me.

Parliament on the Blue Danube.

Photo Update

2006-10-23T01:19:00.000Z

Hi Y'all.
I'm slowly but surely catching up on the blog. I've gone back through the last few entries and added some photos. I spent the weekend in Budapest and have tons of pics from there that I'll post this week.

Spin Cycles, Birthday Parties and Floatariums

2006-10-23T01:09:00.000Z

Finally, a weekend in London! I hate to say it, but I spent a fair amount of it in bed, or on the couch, with a load of laundry in. I say "a load" because that's all I could accomplish. A single load, I kid you not, took 6 HOURS.

I have this nifty combo washer/dryer unit. It has a very small drum so it only fits 3 towels and a couple of pairs of drawers. The upside is, you don't have to take the stuff out after the wash, you just flip a switch to start the dryer. The downside? 6 HOURS.

I know what you're all thinking, all three of you. You're saying to yourself, now this is the same girl who tried to cook pasta and frozen veggies at in the same pot at the same time. And the girl who let Airborne fizz all over the Corinthian leather seats of the Columbian executive's American car. You're thinking I screwed something up. Well, HA! I didn't. It's meant to take that long. I found the instruction manual and right there in black and white were the wash/dry times.

So that was fun.

Seriously, I was OVER the laundry by about noon on Saturday, so I left that thing spinning and went out for a stroll. It was a fabulous day and there was a kid's birthday party in the garden. I would have crashed but I still have no key. They did the cutest thing- on the sidewalks leading up to their house, the parents had drawn arrows with the little girl's name in chalk so the guests could find the place. It must have taken somebody an hour to run around the neighborhood.

While I was out, I came across a place called HydroHealing. As many of my girls will tell you, I am the quintessential New York Spa Whore (TM). If I have a spare $20 in my pocket, I'll give it to somebody to buff, scrub, massage, whack with branches, whatever. I've been intrigued with the idea of the sensory deprivation float , but I tend to get a little clausterphobic so I never looked into it. Recently I read a book in which one of the characters (a real kook, if you know what I mean) was forever nipping out to have a soak in the "Floatarium." This seemed like fate, so I went in and made an appointment for the next day.

Here's how it works: this place doesn't use the conventional tank that makes you feel like you're in a coffin. They have more of a good-sized bathroom set up with a big old tub filled with water that has been treated with minerals and dead-sea salts. Once you're ready -- post-shower, covering any scratches or cuts with vaseline (it is salt water after all!), and putting in ear plugs -- you get into the tub and turn out the lights. I opted for some dim lighting. They told me that a 1 hour float is equivalent to 4 hours of sleep. I believe it. I felt pretty great afterward. I think I was relieved to be able to turn my phones off for an hour.

I Am So Over Terrorism

2006-10-22T23:15:00.000Z

It was on the way to Basel from Zurich that I heard the news about the plane that crashed into the high-rise building on the Upper West Side. By that time it had been pretty well established that is was an accident, not OBL making a comeback. But there's no describing the way that I felt when I heard the words, "a plane just crashed into a building in Manhattan."

As I've been globe-trotting these past few months, I've realized that you can never, ever really know what the rules are for what you can and can't bring on board. So, I've just started packing under the strictest guidelines (UK, of course). No liquids of any kind (not even lip balm!), one carry-on back (smaller than the usual standard size), and I am always ready for security (shoes and jacket off, laptop out, pockets empty, adn other bits and pieces securely tucked into my carry on.) Of course, I always get stuck behind the 300 year old woman who hasn't seen a news cast in 20 years.

"But WHY do I have to take my SHOES off???"

Terrorism has some people so freaked out that they carry little emergency terror kits with them. Case in point:
(My friend, Kurt)

I'm still not sure what the goggles are for.

Morning in the Uetlieberg

2006-10-22T23:12:00.000Z

The view outside my room in the morning...

Don't Mind If I Fondue

2006-10-22T23:10:00.000Z

Wednesday, October 11

By the time our meetings ended on Wednesday afternoon, I was ready to collapse. I still had a trek ahead of me as I was going on to Basel after Zurich, but there was plenty of time for a good fondue.

A bunch of us took the train from the Uetliberg to Zurich main station (where Brendan and I stashed our bags) and ventured out into the heart of the city. Where we became almost immediately lost.

Luckily for all, I was not navigating this time and we eventually found the restaurant. Le Dezaley (no idea why it's called that) is in the shadows of a huge church. The staff were friendly, but a bit wary of the ragged bunch of Americans (plus one Columbian) who took over the back of the dining room and ordered 8 orders of cheese and beef fondue.

I guess we were making gluttons of ourselves: when one of my colleagues tried to order and extra appetizer, the young waitress sternly said, "No. You have enough." 'Nuff said.

When the fondue came, we realized she had a point. The vats of bubbling cheese and cooking oils were intimidating at first, but we held our own. By the end of the meal, we were all feeling a bit bloated, so we walked the long way back to the train station and saw a few of the sites by moonlight.

The Hills Have Hills

2006-10-22T23:09:00.000Z

Sunday, October 8

I flew into London from NY on Saturday, just in time to unpack and repack my bags before heading off to Switzerland for a three day strategy meeting.

The meeting is one of those once-a-year, bring everyone together and make them wear funny t-shirts extravaganzas. It was held at a hotel/conference center in Zurich called Uto Kulm. Uto Kulm is in a car-free zone called the Uetliberg and bills itself as the "Top of Zurich." And how.

It was easy enough to get to the Uetliberg. I had (sort of) packed lightly, just one rolling back and my briefcase, so it wasn't hard to get around.

However, I hadn't anticipated that i would have to literally hike up a mountain, bag and baggage, to get to the hotel.

When I got off the train, I looked around for a porter but didn't see anyone. I only saw a sign: "UTO KULM" with an arrow pointing directly up.

So, up I went. At this point, I should note that I was wearing a fabulous shoe (two, actually) that despite the animal print, were entirely useless on this adventure. The hike wouldn't have been so bad if I was wearing appropriate footwear and wasn't lugging 40 pounds of luggage.

At one point, I pulled over to the side of the mountain and emailed a co-worker of mine who was coming the following day. "Pack light," I warned. " I stopped a few more times, pretending to take pictures or read signs that were all in Swiss German, but mostly I was wondering when I had officially lost all semblance of dignity.

Later, some people claimed that we were warned about the mountainous hike, but I maintain that a "5-8 minute walk" bears little resemblance to the alpine endurance test that was the Uetliberg.

Once I made it the top and checked in, I went outside to explore the Top of Zurich. I ran into a colleague and we decided to go up the tower that gets you up to the highest point. (Yes, I willingly climbed 170 additional steps). The view was spectacular.

Afterward, we went to dinner in the hotel. The Swiss love to eat game, so when in Switzerland... I had the deer carpaccio and venison scallopini. I don't know the difference between deer and venison. Maybe one is an elk?

Basel Burger

2006-10-22T19:11:00.000Z

Thursday, October 12

After the Zurich trip, I headed into Basel for a couple of days of meetings with my clients. Their campus is enormous, and always under construction. I think it will all be done in 2015 or something. Sadly, I won't see it as I'm sure I'll have been canned by that time.

The set up there is that you basically never have to leave the campus. There's a gym, a health center, child care, and lots of resturants and cafes.

I went to the Tapas Bar (imagine!) with my clients where I was treated to a mini cheeseburger. That's a 2Franc coin there for size comparison.

For once, I actually had an evening free to walk around Basel a bit. It's a much lovlier town than I had first thought. My first time through is a blur, but I remember it being a gray blur. Not so this time. Very nice.

Settling Down

2006-10-09T21:07:00.000Z

Friday, October 6

Well boys and girls, you are reading the ramblings of an official HOME OWNER! I made settlement on a condo in Sea Isle City, New Jersey today.

It's been in the works for a while. I've been trying to save up to buy an apartment in Manhattan, but the case officially became hopeless when I read that a 1 BR walk-up on my block went for over $650,000. I decided to look into rental properties down the shore. I found a great little 2-BR condo in Sea Isle, just over the bridge from Avalon.

The timing of course, is just perfect since I've moved to London. But my mother is almost as excited as I am to redecorate. Now she has a winter project!

Bi-Coastal

2006-10-06T02:21:00.000Z

Thursday, October 5
I'm finally back in NYC after a ridiculous cross-country research trip. The itinerary:
Sunday: NYC to San Francisco
Monday, Tuesday: San Fran in research all day
Tuesday: Red eye from San Fran to Boston
Wednesday: Boston
Thursday: Boston in research all day, back to NYC

Complicating matters- the plague has gotten worse. Including today, I've been sick for 10 days. I finally buckled down and went to an Urgent Care facility in San Fran on Tuesday.

San Francisco On Call Medical Group is a medical practice where the doctors actually make house calls. I found their number on the internet at 2am Tuesday morning and momentarily considered scheduling a house call. It seemed like something out of a Doris Day movie. But ultimately, it just seemed so exhausting. I scheduled an appointment instead.

As I arrived at SFOC, there was a doctor leaving to make a housecall... on a scooter! I was so fascinated.

I only waited a few minutes to see Dr. Sewell, a groovy neo-hippy who greeted me with a very chill: "So, what can possibly keep Hindsley down?" Indeed!

In no time the diagnosis came - "bronchitis, a pretty severe case. Luckily, it's not pneumonia, yet." Perscriptions for a strong course of antibiotics and a vicodin-based cough syrup in hand, I waved a cheery goodbye to the Doc and headed off to the pharmacy.

The pharmacy only had regular codeine-based syrup in stock. I honestly thought that the codeine wouldn't make me drowsy becuase years before I had experienced a "paradoxical effect" and didn't sleep for days. When I came to on the sofa of the research facility, tucked in with a blankie, I realized that I had clearly outgrown my resistance to that sweet nectar of the gods.

Admitting I was beaten, I took Wednesday as an official Sick Day and stayed in my hotel room in Boston.

Photos Trapped in Camera

2006-10-03T01:17:00.000Z

Lest you both think I have stopped snapping photos at every opportunity- fear not! They are just trapped in my camera because I forgot the cord in London.

I'll go back and add them later and let you know when they're up.

Long Goodbyes

2006-10-03T01:16:00.000Z

Saturday, September 30

Today I drove down to Philadelphia in the morning to take Delilah to my Aunt’s place. I’m planning on bringing her with me to London as soon as possible. But, according to the UK, dangerous, infectious Yorkie-Poos pose a serious threat to public health and therefore must serve a sort of quarantine before entering the country.

Getting Delilah travel-ready has been a frustrating and ridiculous process. There is a checklist of tasks to complete and forms to fill out. I already screwed it up once, because I did some of the tasks out of order. I had to start over again which meant that the pooch had to be re-vaccinated for rabies. She was not amused.

So now, hopefully, everything is done. Now begins the 6-month countdown until I can bring her into the UK. I feel worse for me than for her. The next 6 months are going to be full of treats, lots of attentions, and lost of stairs to run up and down.

The cats are another story. I don’t think they would do well with a trip like that. Not to mention that poor Pogo has the Sugar. So, I’ve decided to try and find alternate homes for them for the year. If anyone out there is interested, or knows someone – let me know.

I had lunch with my family while I was down in Philly and then drove right back to NYC for a farewell cocktail party hosted by Barry and Bill in their fabulous W Village pad. It was a very laid-back affair, which I enjoyed because I am still hacking up a lung and not entirely sure what time zone I’m in.

Le Deluge

2006-10-03T01:12:00.000Z

Wednesday, September 27

I flew from Mexico back to NYC for a couple of days. I’m feeling completely overwhelmed by the amount of stuff I still need to do. I need to get Delilah to Philadelphia for her 6-month stay with my Aunt. I need to find temporary homes for my cats. I need to sublet my apartment. Oh, and I have this job. It’s all seeming a bit hopeless. I decided to get a mani/pedi to calm my nerves.

Just What Business is This?

2006-10-03T01:11:00.001Z

Tuesday, Sept 26

Another very early morning. The President of the local office offered to drive our group to our meeting. When we got outside, we found a chauffer-driven, armored, 10-seater SUV. I couldn’t help thinking, “who, exactly, is going to be shooting at us?”

Always eager to make a good impression, I wasted no time in making my presence known to the President and his minions. I had been taking Airborne in a futile attempt to stop the onset of infectious disease. They have this new kind called “on the go!” that you just pour into a bottle of water. I neglected to read the instructions, of course, and poured the effervescent powder into a full bottle of Evian. The resulting geyser of sticky, lime green bubbles that coated the leather seats of the Pres-Mobile certainly got me noticed! The Pres is a bit of a gangster in my opinion. Based on the look he gave me, I felt like I should call my family and tell them to GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!!!.

(Re-enactment Photos; don't try this at home:)

Our meeting went well; they do business very differently down here, so who can say?
(Daniel after the meeting):

I did get to take some daylight pictures of the McCann office:

We worked until about 6 pm (there goes my pool time) and went straight back to the hotel. Did I mention that the Four Seasons give you bottled water to use to brish your teeth? Schmancy!

I was too tired and sick to eat. But, I lucked out and was able to get an appointment at the hotel spa. It was the best thing I’d done all week.

Trabajar

2006-10-03T01:11:00.000Z

Monday, September 25

I was up with the birds this morning: conference calls, emails, and then a breakfast meeting with my colleagues before heading off to our local office to put together the presentation for our meeting tomorrow.

The McCann office in Mexico (actually the MRM office) is really beautiful from the outside. Can you imagine working in a place like this?

The day went well, plus or minus a few frustrating developments at the home office, and we worked until about 7:00. My sore throat had developed into a minor case of the plague by that time, so I decided to go to the pharmacy next to the hotel to get some meds. It had just started to get dark, so our local host colleague insisted on coming with me, even though the store was literally 20 yards from the hotel. It’s funny that people think New York City is so dangerous when there are places like this where you can’t be alone outside for any amount of time for fear of kidnappings.

Two of my coworkers, Walter and Daniel:

Oh, Mexico

2006-10-03T01:10:00.000Z

Sunday, September 25

I dragged myself out of bed in time to have a little breakfast on the terrace before having to leave for the airport for my flight to Mexico. The flight is 11 hours, which frankly seems a bit extreme. Luckily, I was able to fly business class.

For obvious reasons, the security at Heathrow is insane. When you fly business class, you get to go through “fast track” security at British Airways. But, really, the lines are still incredibly long. I think I’ve gotten the packing down to a system, but I have the reverse luck of the Irish at airports. I’m always getting “randomly” searched. This time, I was pulled out of the security line to go through the super-duper-extra-special x-ray machine. You are required to put your carry-on through the regular x-ray machine and then you have to stand in front of a giant machine and strike two or three superhero poses as the thing scans you for any IEDs you may have hidden in your drawers. I didn’t complain thought, because this ended up getting me through security much more quickly. I just hope I don’t find myself on one of those “Aren’t Regular People Hilarious??” shows on the Beeb.

On airplanes, you pick up everything but boys and money. I landed in Mexico City with a sore throat and several suspicious hairs sticking to my jacket. Again, I was one of the 0.001% of people who get subjected to a random search upon arrival. Really? What do they think I’m smuggling into Mexico?

Before the trip, I had been given a terrifying orientation by a well-meaning colleague on the dangers of Mexico City. The most panic inducing was the story of “Express Kidnappings” wherein a nefarious character intercepts a driver on the way to the airport to pick up a fare and then stands outside customs with a sign with your name on it. Once you are in the car, they drive you to an ATM machine and make you withdraw as much cash as possible. The really ambitious ones keep you until after midnight, and then make you withdraw more cash. Best case scenario, they drive you back to the airport. Worst case… well you get the idea.

As my colleague suggested, I got myself into an authorised taxi. Other colleagues arriving that night reported that their driver had not been kidnapped and that they had made it to the hotel intact. (Lucky!)

The upside of the trip is that we are all staying at the Four Seasons – a fabulous hotel. I’m hoping to get some free time to sit at the pool.

1-800-ALARM ME

2006-10-03T01:09:00.000Z

Sunday, September 25 (3AM)

As mentioned previously, the flat comes equipped with an extraordinary inconvenient burglar alarm. I’ve been instructed that I must set the alarm each time I leave the apartment.
The process is this:
- go to kitchen pantry
- locate alarm panel
- key in complicated series of numbers
- panic when alarm begins shrieking and display begins counting down
- wonder if you’ve inadvertently enabled the A-Bomb
- decide to leave anyway – race to the front door
- wait outside the door of the flat to make sure alarm eventually stops wailing
- realize that you’ve left something in the flat
- re-enter flat, set off alarm again
- go back to pantry, the display is counting down again and lights are flashing
- frantically search for the other code that turns the alarm off
- disable alarm, forget why you are back in the flat
- begin process again and repeat until the immigration officers arrive

Saturday Night's All Right Woo Hooooooo

2006-09-27T00:56:00.000Z

Saturday, September 23

Coincidentally, my friends Sheri and Keith were in London this weekend so they invited me out to have a few drinks. They were staying with Keith’s college friends, Julie and Callum, who live in Maida Vale.

In honor of Keith’s visit, Julie and Callum had assembled a bunch of people from their days at “Uni” to hang out at the flat before going out on the town. You know how that goes- you get there at 8 for a drink and the next thing you know it’s midnight and you haven’t even thought about where you want to go.

I was having a great time catching up with Sheri and hearing all about her trip so far. (She and Keith had been to Scotland to visit his family and see the sights.) Keith’s friends were a lot of fun. (You know how much I love the boozehounds. I seem to find them everywhere I go.)

We finally got moving, but by this time Keith and Sheri were tired; they had to get up early the next day for their flight back to the US. They bailed on going to the nightclub, which in retrospect was exactly the right thing to do. I stayed on with the gang – about 8 of us – led by a guy who was later revealed to be of the “not one of our friends – we don’t even know him!” type. He apparently was on the guest list of “absolutely every club in London” so we went along with him to Cafe de Paris.

CdP is exactly what you’d expect from a club- loud, crowded, and filled with scantily-clad, but somehow overdressed women and men who skulk around surrounded only by a heavy cloud of aftershave. The cover was £15 (about $28) and drinks were £8 (about $15). Despite these and other horrors encountered at CdP, I was up for a good time – especially when I found out that none of them really wanted to be there either. But when you’ve already paid almost 50 bucks you figure you have to stick it out.

The crowd started to thin out at about 2am, and I new I needed to get to bed soon since I was due to fly out on Sunday for a business trip to Mexico. The gang showed no signs of slowing down; when I left them, the girls were about to infiltrate the VIP room (wooooo!).

The one good thing about the club was that they were able to put me right into a cab. The guy actually walked me around the block to make sure I got there in one piece. Nice!

It wasn’t until I got back to my apartment at 3AM that I remembered that I would still need to confront what will surely become the bane of my existence and possibly the grounds for my inevitable eviction from Notting Hill… the alarm.

Julianne Slept Here

2006-09-23T15:09:00.000Z

I arrived, safe and sound, in London on Friday afternoon and went straight to my new flat in Notting Hill. Great neighborhood, posh digs, more space then i know what to do with (with the exception that there is only one tiny dresser with a couple of drawers. where will i stash my dainties??)

Here are some pics of the place:

The "drawing room." That's real art, people!

My bedroom. Where the magic happens. Ew.

A view of the living room. I'm considering putting in a bowling alley.

Maid's quarters. Or for guests -- book early for cheap flights!

The garden. There's a lock on it. I have no key. Why must they taunt me??

Looks aside, I have (of course) uncovered all sorts of flaws to the place, too dull to recount here. Except I will vent about the fact that the place boasts "high speed wireless" and "SKY satellite tv" yet here I sit at Starbucks using their wireless and last night I watched an old and very fuzzy rerun of Columbo.

I put a call in to the realters in charge of letting the place and got put through the the wrong person. The guy said: "I haven't put anyone in that flat since I placed Julianne Moore there three years ago." La-di-da!

So Long, Farethewell, Pip Pip, Cheerio

2006-09-22T02:32:00.000Z

It's Thursday, September 21 and I am about to embark on yet another international adventure. My faithful readers (both of you, ha ha) may remember the good old days when I would post so faithfully and regale you all with my tales of victory and defeat in the Land of the Rising Sun.

This time I am off to more familiar lands -- moving to London on a business venture. I won't bore you with the details - same company, same kind of job, different city, blah blah blah.

The exciting part is that I will be travelling extensively (should we take bets on how long it will take before that doesn't sound so exciting any more?) I've already been to Switzerland several times (my client is based there, so I'll be spending a lot of time there), Paris, and Philadelphia. OK, Philly's not so exciting, butI was there on business and I did see a guy dressed like Ben Franklin so it sort of counts.

In the very near future: Mexico and Budapest!

Right now, I am sitting in the departures area at JFK, waiting to board my flight to London. I'm annoyed because I was randomly upgraded to first class (yea!) but this is such a late flight that the Lounge was closed (boo!) so I'm sitting among the mere mortals. That's OK. I plan to mock them later as I sip fizzy wine and abuse the flight attendants.

Ugh - annoying cell phone user to the right. It's almost time for my Ambien.

Cheers!

Agency of the Year

2006-06-07T03:28:00.000Z

As any of my regular readers can tell you, I'm seriously behind on the blogging. I have about six drafts on the dashboard just waiting to be, well, drafted.

Anywho, this one is from APRIL!

***********************************************************************************
Spring is finally here and, for advertising folks, that can only mean one thing: awards season! Every year, all the medical advertising companies get together to see who got fat, who got fired, and who will win a Med Ad News ("Manny") Award.

This year, my agency was nominated for one of the top awards - Agency of the Year. It was the first time we were nominated in the category (we won "Agency on the Rise" in 2003), so we weren't very optimistic that we'd win. In fact, our Managing Partner send this email to the whole agency on the morning of the ceremony:

Folks:
As many of you know, tonight is the Med Ad News agency of the year whatever. I don ‘t want to be a party pooper but I feel compelled to tell everyone that our chance of winning is quite remote. I have been going to these things for over a decade and an agency that has been nominated for the first time has never won! However, I want to impress upon everyone that it is a tremendous coup to be nominated for this award.

Because none of us thought we were going to win, we spent the evening doing what any self-respecting prospective runners up do: drank everything except the candle fuel. Our bevvy of choice at table 10 (aka the "kids table") was Woop Woop wine. Don't judge - it was free. Over at table 8 (aka the "grown ups table" they had place cards and traded up to a slightly more reputable vintage.

Well, imagine our collective surprise when our company's name was called as the winner in our category. We looked a little bit like the audience on Oprah's favorite things episode. Our three partners literally sprinted onto the stage. Our Managing Partner, who hadn't prepared a speech, thrilled the audience by using the word "balls" three times in three minutes. We wouldn't have it any other way.

The Big Cheeses...

Before the awards.

Still maintaining some dignity

Our CFO haggling with the waiters.
"What do ya mean the Tattinger is $80 cheaper than the Dom?"

We went for the Dom. Until it ran out.
Then we switched to the Tattinger.

After the ceremony, we took over the hotel bar. Someone thought it would be a good idea to order shots of Patron.

The beginning of the end.

Big Shots

It was a heady mix of booze and bravado. We stayed until 3 AM. The waitress, desperate for us the get the hell out, begged us to leave.

Devolution.

Bacchus and friend.

Pucker up.

The question on everyone's minds: does this mean we have to grow up????

Paris in the Rain

2006-06-04T03:51:00.000Z

Recently I had to travel to Basel, Switzerland for a business meeting. My original itinerary had me spending just one full day in Europe before flying back to the US. Since my new goal is to look for the silver lining in all situations, I decided to make a weekend of it and visit Paris.

This wasn't my first trip to Paris (which was circa 1986), but it was the first time I was on my own - old enough to (legally) drink lots of wine, take the Metro (unchaperoned), and skip Notre Dame (woo!).

I narrowly escaped Switzerland at the crack on Saturday morning. I almost missed my flight because I was in the wrong country. When I checked in, the attendant said, "Air France? That's in France!" (Who new that the Basel airport straddled the Swiss and French borders? And that my flight was leaving from the French side?)

It was raining my I arrived at Charles de Gaulle, pouring actually. I know this because since the aforementioned Air France flight landed well away from the gates at CDG, we emerged from the aircraft into the open air, tramped down a set of very rickety, very slippery metal stairs, and took the airport shuttle to the real airport.

Soon, all was right with the world, because the taxi pulled up to the Hotel Lutetia.

Hotel Lutetia

It's a gorgeous hotel near the Boulevard St. Germain. Since I had no idea wha the conversion from dollars to Euros was, I wasn't even panicked about the amount of money I spent there! (That came later.) My room wasn't quite ready, and I wasn't quite ready to go back out into the rain, so I rested a while in the hotel with a cup of coffee.

Coffee in the hotel lobby (9 Euros, $13!)

My room was adorable, but the view was the real treat:

First view from my room

Center: Eiffel Tower, Right: Les Invalides

I finally ventured out into the neighborhood and found a cute cafe near the metro. It was called Cafe Metro. I sat there for over an hour, soaking up the scene, and watching the Parisians get soaked.

When the rain finally stopped, I lurked around Paris for the rest of the afternoon. I took the metro to the Eiffel Tower (a very kind French woman helped me figure out the ticket machine). The rain had stopped so I decided to go up the tower. Note: never take the shortest line. It's short because there's no elevator.

First views of the Eiffel Tower

I admit, I'm a little out of shape, but I think I could have made it to the top under normal circumstances. However, about 5 minutes after I started climbing the stairs, the rain came back with a vengeance. Accompanied by gale force winds. I made it to the first of the three viewing platforms (the 3rd was closed anyway) where I cowered in a corner, clutching desperately at the girders lest I get swept over the side. But, what a way to go, right?

Paris from the Tower

The Seine River

Bridges over the Seine

Almost as soon as I left the Tower, the clouds cleared and it was walking weather again. I visited the gardens of the Tuileries, walked around outside the Louvre (too crowded to go inside), and took the long way back to the Left Bank.

Bateau on the Seine

One of the many art/booksellers along the Seine

Later, after dinner, I had a drink in the hotel lounge. There was a singer there backed up by two guys who looked disturbingly like Larry David.

Saturday night in the Hotel Lounge

The Two "Larrys"

I woke up early on Sunday and made my way over to the Louvre. Even though I got lost along the way, I managed to get there before the crowds descended.

The Louvre on Saturday Afternoon

No escape from the CODE!

She had the right idea.

Le Jardins des Tuileries

The maze garden of the Tuileries

Brunch at Cafe Beaubourg, which has a nice mix of tourists and locals. It's just next door to the Centre de Georges Pompidou, a fabulous modern art museum with a great view of Paris. I strolled around the top floor of the Pompidou, then took in a couple of the exhibits there. One was a retrospective of art from Los Angeles, 1955-85. Wacky. The highlight was video of a guy who had himself nailed to the hood of a Volkswagen Bug.

Cafe Beaubourg

Centre de Georges Pompidou, from Cafe Beaubourg

Paris through a dirty window, the view from Pompidou Center

Last major tourist stop: The Arc de Triomphe. You can actually go to the top. But this time, I read the fine print: No elevator. I settled for the view from below. I walked back to my hotel via the famous avenue, the Champs Elysee.

L'Arc de Triomphe

The Champs Elysees

I had a full day of travel ahead of me on Monday, so I ordered room service, wrapped myself in a blanket and sat on the terrace watching the lights of Paris. Good stuff.

I obsessively photographed this view from my room

My favorite

A few parting shots:

Top: Paris - even the restroom signs are chic!
Bottom: Basel, Switzerland, not so chic.

Me, mortified in Basel
(I've just seen the restroom signs, above)

Sweet, Sweet Charity

2006-02-28T02:35:00.000Z

Herewith, pictures that serve to humble, embarass, and recall the 'good old days.' These were sent by an old college friend who thought we'd get a kick out of them.

When I was in college I was a member of the Penn State Thespians [insert "lesbian" joke here]. This show was Sweet Charity (recently on Broadway starring the adorable Christina Applegate.

One of my main memories of this production was of one of the "Dance Hall Girls" (a.k.a. the slutty girls who dressed up as the slutty dancing girls) asked me if I ever took it up the butt.

Sorry, but that's my memory.

Ah, we were young. Full of champangne and dreams!

I think this was a costume. I hope it was a costume.

Blizzard!

2006-02-12T17:12:00.000Z

The first blizzard of 2006 is upon us. It seems that they always happen on a weekend. I guess that's a good thing, because adults rarely get snow days. Especially when you live in Manhattan.

I ventured out this morning with Delilah in tow. She was very excited to go outside, since she is primarily an indoor dog. (Yes, I know. I am a very bad dog-mommy. No protesting letters, please. She can work it out in therapy like all my other kids.)

Once outside, though, she kept giving me these looks that said, "Dr. Rosenstein is going to have a field day with this one, Mom." So, we lasted all of 3 minutes before seeking refuge in the bodega next door.

It's kind of like the bodega that time forgot. Everything is ridiculously cheap by Manhattan standards ($.60 for a cup of coffee!) and they didn't mind that I brought a soaking wet dog into the place. I guess the board of health hasn't been in there recently.

Sleeping giants.

Amsterdam Ave.

Broadway.

This sucks.

My Life as a Double Agent

2006-02-09T01:08:00.000Z

You want to know how I feel about Spies? Two words: Dream Job. Wear Lycra, do Kung Fu, balance exhilarating rumbles with Bad Guys with excruciatingly boring day job. Nothing wrong with that.

I actually might have made a reasonably good spy. Costume? Check. Kung Fu skills? A little rough, perhaps, but I've got a good kick. Double life? Sometimes. It's all relative.

In the very recent past, I had to channel my inner Sydney Bristow as I worked on a super-top-secret new business pitch. Well, it's over now. And we lost. So, now I can finally break the cone of silence.

It had all the makings of a good spy thriller: a crack team of highly talented, but possibly unstable operatives was assembled to complete a gargantuan task under an impossible deadline. Along the way there were clandestine meetings, strange people with dangerous accents, suspicious foods, and a whirlwind trip to a dingy little European town.

It was thrilling. The fate of the world (a.k.a. next year's forecast) was in our hands! The following images were pulled off an old Soviet satellite:

Radioactive snack-ums from the Crown Club. I brought home a sample to be analyzed in the lab.

Even super spies can supersize.

Our "target" is the guy in the red jacket.

Here we are posing as tourists. Hiding in plane sight. Genius, isn't it?

See, with the glasses, no one knows it's me!

Flesh Loaf. With salad.

I make this guy taste all my food to make sure it's not poisoned.

I caught this guy paying homage to Colonel Klink.

Those eastern Europeans are so superior.

The trick to having an alias is getting the details right. Like having a "Hildegarde" name-mug on your desk.

Beer and pretzels. With cheese. And butter. They were out of salad.

Updated

2006-02-03T15:13:00.000Z

For those of you who couldn't read the fortunes in the previous entry- I updated to include them.
C

a month in photos

2006-02-01T03:36:00.000Z

I've been missing from the Blogosphere for about a month, even though there has been no shortage of hilarious, absurd, infuriating, and disgusting things to write about.

So, in lieu of my witty prose, here are some snaps of life according to me:

I think these fortunes sum up the difference between me and my sister:

My sister's fortune: "People are naturally attracted to you."

My fortune: "The strengths in your character will bring you serenity." Frankly, I'd rather be hot and unserene.

A pre-holiday gathering of oldsters. We were full of pie:

Christmas Chez Hindsley:

New Year's Day in Philly. I didn't see any Mummers, but I saw a lot of drunks.

The first RAT of the new year!

Celebrating Sheri's birthday in style...

emotional spandex

2005-12-29T16:27:00.000Z

It's the evening we look forward to all year... the office holiday party! Who will pass out in the bathroom? (sadly, no one.) Who will make inappropriate comments? (um, everyone?) Will I actually get to eat this year? (prime rib. yum.)

Anyway, a fine time was had by all. Great space, great music (Look, Ma, a real band!), and a bunch of us from the agency stormed the stage and performed a not-so-impromtu set of tunes. We called ourselves "Pitchin' and Moanin'." Otherwise known as "Emotional Spandex."

Don't Ask.

The band in rehearsal.

I think this should be our album cover.
"She Hates Me."
Me and my fan club.

I'm sure I'm making some really good point.

Probably singing some Elvis Costello tune.

Strike

2005-12-23T02:33:00.000Z

I know I'm way behind on posting. Life has been so ridiculous since I've been back in the US. I forgot how fast we move in NYC. My body rebelled, finally, last week in the form of a nasty stomach bug that flattened me for three days and hung around for a few more. Although, personally, I think it was overkill. My body could have just left me a voicemail.

As everyone in the free world knows, NYC was plagued with a transit strike this week. Three days of no buses or trains. Incredible how crippling it was. Through it all, most people demonstrated an incredible capacity for "sucking it up" and getting on with life.

The subway station near my office.

I came up with what would eventually be revealed to be a flawed plan. I had a rental car to get myself and a co-worker out to NJ for a client meeting, but I couldn't get past 96th street. So, I headed uptown to pick up my friend Michael and two of his friends. Flawed. We found ourselves hopelessly mired in the gridlock that was Manhattan.

Me, still cheerful after 3 hours behind the wheel.

It was an experience worthy of a Seinfeld episode. Conversations ranged from our jobs (advertising, broadway) and politics (hate George Bush) to tv (Super Nanny) and the strike (hate it!). Five hours later, I arrived at my meeting in NJ. Late, but with a humdinger of an excuse.

My chariot.

Day two was not much better. This time I picked up three "hitchhikers" along Columbus Ave to get myself through the checkpoint. It's so weird having a two-hour conversation with complete strangers. I'll never see them again, but I'll never forget them.

Day three I gave up and stayed home.

I Want My Mommy

2005-12-15T19:03:00.000Z

I'm so sick I want to die.

Feeling Charitable?

2005-12-11T22:04:00.000Z

The holidays are such a crazy time of year: gift shopping, holiday getherings, work-related functions. Who has time for anything else?

For any of you who have been meaning to make some charitable contributions, here are a few ideas I've heard in the recent past that I thought were kind of cool...

** If you have suits hanging in your closet that are a little past their prime, Dress for Success will take them off your hands. This organization provides suits and other professional clothes to low-income women who are interviewing for jobs.

**Ever wished you could run a marathon but are too busy/out-of-shape/sane to train for one? Why not contribute to a marathoner's training/charity fund? My roomie, Joanna, is running a marathon on behalf of the Leukemia/Lymphoma Society.

**Want to help rebuild New Orleans? Click here for good old-fashioned hurricane relief.

**If you're like me, you probably have a drawerful of toiletries stolen from hotels around the world. Did you know that local shelters would love to have them? Ditto for cell phones, baby clothes, and even prom dresses!

Many contributions are tax-deductible, so it's a win-win! Give til it hurts people.

Life Behind the Mirror

2005-12-11T21:37:00.000Z

As in life, advertising is about multi-tasking. This week was one of the wackiest. I was all over the place: market research, black-tie cocktail party, rock & roll jam session. Who's life is this?

Interviewing neurologists. ZZZZzzzz.

The only thing missing is the m&ms.

RCW house band: Pitchin' & Moanin'

Retrieving Delilah

2005-12-05T00:20:00.000Z

During my trip to Japan, my pooch Delilah was spending time in the Philly area with my Aunt. She had a great time visiting her "cousins" (the other pets in my extended family) and running up and down Aunt Joan's Stairs.

Over Thanksgiving I went to pick her up to bring her home. I was really worried that she wouldn't remember me. Luckily, that was not the case. I found her happy, healthy, a little scruffy, and if possible even more adorable than when I left her.

And they call it puppy love...

Thanks for abandoning me, Mom.

Delilah with Aunt Joan and friends.

Two hot babes and a hot car.

Pet Peeves

2005-11-27T01:51:00.000Z

Sometimes people ask me if I have any pet peeves. I always roll my eyes because, of course, I have about 10 million of them. I become peeved fairly often. In fact, one could say that, on occasion, I can be quite peevish.

One of my biggest ones is the constant need for people to monitor the weight of other people (OK, the weight of me). Don't get me wrong, I like a good compliment as much as the next person, but "Wow. You lost a TON of weight!" doesn't exactly qualify as a compliment in my book. I get it, I'm not as FAT as I was last time you saw me. Thanks, but could we refrain from hyperbole of the 2,000 pound variety?

Think about it: what other physical "defects" do we feel as comfortable mentioning? When was the last time you ever heard someone say, "Hey Jill, your acne's really clearing up! You really had a pizza face there for a while." or "Wow, Bill, your formerly hooked and bulbous nose looks SO MUCH smaller! Way to go!" or "I gotta tell ya, Phil, whatever you did to get rid of that bad breath is really working. I mean, it could have knocked a maggot off a shit wagon. Keep it up!"

I could go on and on. Really.

I admit, if in fact I am defined by my body type, I am as guilty as anyone else for making that happen because it's so often a topic of conversation and something that I obsess over on a daily basis.

I'm just saying.

Gobble Gobble

2005-11-24T17:57:00.000Z

Happy Thanksgiving!

I'm in Philly for the weekend to see my family and eat copious amount of Turkey, etc. After a relaxing weekend in the neighborhood, I was back at work on Monday morning. It was strange, but really fun. Of course, no actual work was done and I drank a lot of wine at lunch.

Life is good. And I'm sure by next Monday I will be fully back in the rat race.

So, I'm thinking of continuing this bloggin thing. But, should I start a new blog? One that's not a rip off of a movie title about being in Japan? Or keep this one. Confused.

Thoughts?

The Longest Days of My Young Life

2005-11-20T16:15:00.000Z

November 17-18

Sadly, we had to leave Port Douglas and begin our journey home. The plan was to fly from Cairns to Sydney, where Doug and I would go our separate ways: he would stay with Tisha for 2 more days in Sydney and I was flying back to Tokyo to pick up my connecting flight back to NYC.

Unfortunately, when we got to the airport in Cairns, we found that our flight had been mysteriously cancelled and that we were put onto a later flight. One that would get me to Sydney exactly two hours before my flight to Tokyo. Normally, this wouldn't upset me, but given my recent issues with baggage, etc, and the fact that I had done NO souvenir shopping, I was pissed.

I set it up with the Qantas people to check my luggage straight through to Tokyo so that at least I wouldn't have to claim and re-check my baggage. I was pretty specific about the fact that Doug's bag would be staying in Sydney. They seemed to understand.

Well, let's just say that they knew that one of our bags was supposed to go to Tokyo, they just were a little mixed up on which one. Luckily, when Doug went to baggage claim, he recognized my bag trundling down the conveyor belt. He was able to get the Qantas people to re-check my bag through to my Tokyo flight, but the staff were unable to find his bag. They assumed it was already on my flight and they couldn't get it off.

In a last minute call, Doug told me to look for it in Tokyo.

When I landed at around 6AM, I went immediately to the bag claim people to explain the situation. My bag came through, but I didn't see Doug's. It was a little early to call him in Sydney, so I decided to fill out a lost bag report just in case. This was easier said then done, and as I was repeatedly asked to produce my passport to various baggage claim people, I was getting worried that I might be flagged as an agitator. I finally called Doug and he reported that Qantas had indeed found his bag after about 2 hours of searching the airport in Sydney.

I had hurriedly purchased an oversized, wooden souvenir as a gift for someone in my office. The customs inspector was very concerned about it and mentioned "termites." I assured him that there were no termites stowing away in any of my stuff. He looked unconvinced, but waved me through anyway.

My flight to NYC wasn't until 7PM and it was only 8AM when I finally cleared customs. I wasn't allowed to check in, so I wasted the day watching CNN in a random lounge, buying up some final souvenirs, and getting my nails done. I finally checked in at 2PM, and once-freed of my large suitcase, I set off to deal with my boxes of stuff that were being held in another terminal. I was only allowed to check in one more piece of baggage without being charged (they told me the charge to check my oversized wooden souvenir, which weighed less than 2 kg, would be $200 USD! Charlatans!!). So began another session of "what can I abandon now?"

I finally got everything into one box (underweight, thank you), stopped by the post office to ship my oversized wooden souvenir (only $30 USD, score!), and triumphantly returned to the check in desk. The agent tried to get me to downgrade my ticket to economy class because business class was oversold. I gave her a look that my friend Michael describes as my "I smell shit" face and said, "No, thanks." As if.

The flight home was very comfortable, although I made the mistake of ordering the Japanese meal. What on earth possessed me? I'll never know. I chatted with my seatmate, a 50-something actuary/estate tax specialist from Boston who was much more interesting than his job sounds. He asked me why I was still single saying, "You know, if there wasn't a geographical issue and an obvious age difference, I'd ask you out."

There I was, bare-faced, bespectacled, flip-flopped, uncoiffed, and unshowered being practically propositioned by a possibly non-creep. Wonders never cease. We exchanged business cards, but that's probably the end of that.

Finally, we landed in NYC and I breezed through immigration. I had only the tiniest twinge of guilt when, in response to the question: "Have you spent any time on a farm during your time outside the US?", I checked the NO! box. I'm sure those cows were clean.

There was a car waiting for me at the airport (thank god) and soon I was back at my apartment, catching up with my roommate and trying to win back the affections of my seriously pissed off cats.

Snorkeling on the Great Barrier Reef

2005-11-20T08:30:00.000Z

Wednesday, November 16

We were up early to catch the bus to take us on our snorkeling tour of the Great Barrier Reef. The Quicksilver company was recommended by a woman we met in Sydney on our Harbor Bridge Climb. They were a little more expensive than the other companies, but I think they had a more comprehensive program and were obviously well-prepared for any and all tourist-related situations.

Boarding the boat

It took about 90 minutes to get out to the pontoon at the Agincourt Reef dive site. On the way, the crew showed us a video about how to snorkel. I admit, I watched this with great interest because my last few snorkeling attempts have been great failures. I don't know what it is, but I just get really panicky underwater. Having that mask stuck to my face and the snorkel thingy shoved in my maw is just horrible. Don't get me started on the flippers.

One item of interest that was repeated several times was that there is a high possibilty that there will be "marine stingers" in the water. Now, by "marine stingers" they actually mean Box Jellyfish AKA venomous death blobs that will kill you as soon as look at you. In fact, they don't even look at you because they don't have eyes. They just have tentacles. And if even the teeny tiny tip of a tentacle even brushes against your teeny tiny toe, you die a slow horrible gasping death.

But, never fear. In order to avoid 400 tourists writhing in unimaginable agony on the decks of the pontoon, Quicksilver provides "stinger suits" which apparently protect the wearer from the stinging creatures. Maybe the electric-blue lycra spandex deflects the stings. Or maybe it scares the life out of everything in it's path. You be the judge:

Auditioning for the Blue Man Group.

My match.com photo

Awwww...

Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close up.

Anyway. Once we were suited up, it was time to get in the water. Even though they make it easy by providing a snorkeling platform where you get basically just sit down and your in the water, I was fairly terrified. My heart was thumping so loudly I could barely hear Doug trying to reassure me that it would all be fun.

The snorkeling platform. At least I wasn't dorky enough to wear a life jacket over my stinger suit.

We got in the water, and it wasn't long before I was being knocked around by little waves and had taken in a huge mouthful of water. I was trying to stay within the "if you're not a strong swimmer" zone, where they suggest that children, the elderly, and the infirm should stay. But I soon realized that my chances of drowning were great increased due to the presence of other flailing, panicked landlubbers. So, I made the executive decision that I'd strike out for the calmer waters of the "if you're a confident swimmer" zone.

Best decision I ever made. The water was calmer (even if the current was not) and soon I had gotten the hang of the skorkeling thing and was chasing after schools of fish. Doug and I stayed in the water for over an hour and went in for a second trip later. It was fascinating seeing the coral reef and all of the crazy fish and other creatures that live in it. We even saw several clown fish (that's Nemo to us mere mortals). I was absurdly pleased by that.

They call this the "dead man's float." Eek!

It was our last real day of vacation (at least together, Doug was staying on in Sydney for another two days). So, we went back to our favorite restaurant in Port Douglas (of the two we tried): Salsa Bar & Grill. Another great meal complete with witty banter with our new best friend - our waitress who looked just like Cate Blanchett playing Katharine Hepburn.

Later, after waiting 40 minutes for a cab that would never come, we ran into the Nuts people from the night before. They were also waiting for a cab and offered us a ride back to the hotel once their car finally came. They were a hilarious group of friends who vacation together every year. Good times.

Lazy Day by the Pool

2005-11-20T04:40:00.000Z

Tuesday, November 15

We decided to make today a free day to laze around and take advantage of the Sheraton Mirage resort. I was up around 9:00 and I decided to go for a run on the beach. Of course, I underestimated how difficult it is to actually run on sand, especially since I'm not in such great shape, so it turned into more of a granny-jog/power-walk/beach-combing session.

I took advantage of the breakfast buffet (they had vegemite and nutella packets!) before squeezing myself into my humiliating bathing costume and heading off to the pool.

Bliss. My view of the world for most of the day.

I amused myself by taking pictures of the hotel and another walk on the beach.

One of the five "lagoons" at the hotel.

Another view of the lagoons.

Four Mile Beach was just outside our hotel.

In the afternoon, I went to the resort spa where some woman beat the crap out of me for an hour. Again, bliss.

For dinner, Doug and I went back into town and ate at a BYO ("bring your own" liquor/beer, etc) Thai restaurant. There was a black out that effectively shut down every business in town. There was one bar that had a generator, so everyone headed there for more drinks. Unfortunately, after about 20 minutes the generator died and we were all left to finish our beers and get the hell out. When we asked the taxi driver what caused the black out he said, "Lack of electricity, mate."

The one place with a generator, after it died.

The Sheraton, of course, was lit up like Christmas. They must have some sort of super generator. We headed into the bar for a few more drinks. There was a singer there who played the guitar fairly well. There was also a party of four revellers who had us laughing with their crazy dancing and their attempt to hijack our nuts. (Minds out of the gutter, please).

Nuts people.

Blog is Up to Date

2005-11-14T13:53:00.000Z

Hi All:
The blog is finally up to date through today's adventures. The catch is that for some reason I am unable to upload any pictures into Blogger.

Luckily, my friend Doug has tons of great pictures from our trip on his blog. He's in the process of updating, so check back often to see new snaps.

Arriving in Port Douglas, Cairns

2005-11-14T13:48:00.000Z

Monday, November 14

When we got back to the hotel last night, we tried to take advantage of the hotels (not free) wireless technology. Of course, my PC was having none of it, so I only had a few minutes to post some of my piled up blog entries. Blogger chose to not let me upload any pictures and I finally gave up in disgust. My laundry list of why Blogger sucks is growing.

In the morning, we had a quick breakfast then headed off to the airport to catch out flight from Melbourne to Cairns. We were flying JetStar, which is one of those annoying “cheap” airlines that don’t give you any food and don’t have seat assignments. Not having seat assignments is all well and good for business people flights like the Delta Shuttle from NYC to Washington DC, but for regular folk it spells CHAOS. I did not approve. Luckily, Doug and I strategized and ended up with a row to ourselves.

We landed in Cairns and immediately felt the change in the atmosphere. Instead of the breezy chilly air of Melbourne, we were feeling the hot tropical air. I was itching to get to the hotel so I could get on the beach or at least to the pool.

There was a shuttle to take us to the hotel. The driver had two pieces of bad news: 1 – it was an hour drive to the hotel and 2 – the air conditioner in the shuttle was broken. Yikes.

Sweating to death in the shuttle on the way to the hotel.

We made it to the hotel, more or less intact. It’s a beautiful place and our stay here is practically free because Doug has some ungodly number of Starwood awards points. Our room is right on one of the 6 pools (or lagoons as they call them in this hotel). Our porter was helpful, but gave us the longest and most detailed hotel/room orientation we’d ever experienced. We couldn’t get rid of him. By the time I made it to the pool, the sun was gone. But it was nice to be outside for a while.

On the plane, I started reading the book Down Under by Bill Bryson. He’s a travel writer and this book has been recommended by a few people. It’s a hilarious view of his travels through Australia. I’m glad I’m reading it toward the end of my trip because I feel like I can relate to some of his experiences.

Doug and I decided to have dinner in town, so we went to the porter to ask for a cab. We ended up getting a stretch limo for $12 AUD ($8 USD). It was white and the interiors were covered in a white furry fabric which smelled just a little bit like wet dog. But of course, we arrived in style at the Salsa Bar & Grill. The food was fabulous. We shared a house salad (with goat cheese) and the ubiquitous trio of dips appetizer (this has become a regular thing for us, there is usually hummus, eggplant, and salmon roe (or guac) dips with pita or focaccia bread). Doug had the gnocchi special and I had a roasted lamb dish that featured a kangaroo wonton. For dessert, I followed our waitress’ recommendation and had the chocolate cake made with black sapote fruit which apparently tastes like chocolate. Doug had the dragonfruit, mango and lime sorbet.

Doug at the Salsa Bar & Grill.

Me doing my infamous "Crazy Eyes" imitation of scared cows.

We walked around the town of Port Douglas for a few minutes after dinner. It’s bigger than I thought and there are lots of shops to explore (which were all closed). One of the main claims to fame for the town is that Bill and Hillary Clinton have visited there. In fact, they were dining at Salsa Bar & Grill on September 11, 2001. [Cue the spooky music…]

Doug and I just have to decide what to do with our last two days in Oz. We want to go check out the Great Barrier Reef, of course, but we also want to soak up the rays before we go back to the winter chill of NYC.

Melbourne in a Day

2005-11-14T13:47:00.000Z

Sunday, November 13

Doug wanted to sleep in a little, so we planned an afternoon of touring around Melbourne. I got up around 9 and (gasp!) went to the hotel gym for a granny jog. Once we were both up and around, we headed into center city to find brunch.

Café Segovia is a cute little place on Block Place. We had a big meal and decided to loosely follow another walking tour from one of the guidebooks. Since it’s Sunday, the center city area was a little quiet, but we walked past the major sites. We popped into a little shop that had irreverent t-shirts (my favorite kind). The sales girl was one of those fantastic-looking young rebels with bleached out hair, raccoon eyes, and facial piercings. As soon as we walked in, she started chatting with us and soon she was drawing us a map and giving us the rundown on everything we need to see while we’re in Melbourne. She directed us to Chapel Street, Brunswick (or Bruni, as she called it), and St. Kilda. A few of these had been on our list, but it was nice to have a recommendation from a local. I was thinking that I couldn’t imagine the same scenario happening in New York. I mean, could two tourists walk into a place in the east village, or most other neighborhoods for that matter, and leave with an unsolicited itinerary of the must-see sites of Manhattan. Call me crazy.

After touring downtown we dropped our stuff at the hotel, changed out clothes and headed back out. First stop was Chapel Street, a mid-market shopping district (less 5th Avenue, more Soho). This neighborhood was much more active and we spent a few hours weaving in and out of the little shops. At one place, Kit, we ran into another uber-friendly sales girl who offered more recommendations on what to cram into our remaining hours in Melbourne. The people here are just so friendly. More than that, I think they are really proud of their cities and of Australia in general, and I think they just love to chat.

We left Chapel Street and took the Tram to St. Kilda, a bayside town with a few cafes and bars. We got a seaside table, ordered some good food and drink, and watched the sunset over the bay.

Hours later, we poured ourselves into a cab and had an interesting conversation with the cab driver, a North Indian man who is getting his Masters degree in Melbourne. He had a lot of cynical, but completely believable things to say about Australia. But, the interesting thing is that he’s applying for permanent residency. I asked him why, I wanted to know why it was worth it to live in a city where he felt discriminated against. And, of course, the answer was: “Because it’s better than where I come from.” It’s a crazy world.

Great Ocean RoadTrip

2005-11-14T13:45:00.000Z

Saturday, November 12

The Great Ocean Road isn’t the most direct route from Macka’s to Melbourne, but it is a well-known scenic drive. Factoring in the stops we wanted to make along the way, we figured it would take all day.

We started with breakfast in Princetown at a little pub called Talk of the Town. It was empty except for one woman working behind the counter. When we walked in and asked if she was serving breakfast, she said, “I can. What did you want?” There was no menu and we were a little confused. We asked her what they had and she shrugged and said, “I could probably do some bacon and eggs.” I imagined her going back to the kitchen and rustling up some grub, but we said OK. It was actually pretty good. The pub was a strange little place, ABBA was playing on the hi-fi and there was a fishtank with some weird specimens on display. There was also a collage of mildly offensive photos, apparently of the “regulars.” Good times.

Next stop was back to the Twelve Apostles site. This time the sun was out, and although it was still a little cold, the view was even more spectacular than the night before.

We made our way through small towns and long stretches of woodlands where there was no view of the ocean. This is because there is a gorgeous rainforest in the area as well. Macka had recommended a tree top walk, which we were interested in doing. But, the weather was strange and when we got to the rainforest area it was, well, raining. So we skipped it.

Our last major stop was the town of Lorne. We had dinner at a place called the Deck which had a great view of the beach. Afterwards, the got some ice cream and sat on the boardwalk watching the locals enjoying the last hours of daylight on the beach.

We got into the city of Melbourne just after dark and almost got lost finding our hotel. Somehow, Doug used his SpideySense to find the hotel. I still don’t know how he did it.

The Park Hyatt was a far cry from Macka’s Farm. We had a fabulous room with a huge bathroom. Finally, internet access!

Traveling to Melbourne

2005-11-13T14:09:00.001Z

Friday, November 11

Friday morning we were off to the Ayers Rock airport for our flight to Melbourne. Melbourne is in the same time zone as Sydney, so we set our watches forward 1 ½ hours. We were anxious to get to out first stop: Macka’s Farm. We were to spend the night on a real, working dairy farm. Milking cows – woo hoo!

Macka’s is about a 3 hour drive from the Melbourn airport, so we stopped for a quick lunch at McDonald’s. For those of you keeping track, this was my first trip to a Micky D’s since I left the US. My how things have changed. The Golden Arches has gone healthy and, apparently, upmarket since my last visit.

Ladies and Gentlemen: McCafe.

We got to Macka’s a little after 7 PM and we were greeted by a couple of goats; Baby, an aging, but persistent farm dog; and Lee, a very cute guy who is working on the farm for the summer. Lee showed us to Lodge 2, a homey room with a queen size bed and a set of bunk beds. Guess where Doug slept?

We met Macka, the owner, and he said that we’d just missed the evening milking, but that he’d be doing it again in the morning between 6 and 8 AM. Then he suggested that we head out to the Great Ocean Road to see the Twelve Apostles before it got too dark, then head into Port Campbell for dinner.

We took his advice and headed out to the Twelve Apostles, a series of limestone cliffs that seem to defy gravity and the forces of the Indian Ocean. It was windy and cold and the site was thrilling. We stayed out as long as we could before it got too dark to see. We decided to come back the Twelve Apostles site in the morning to check it out in daylight.

I went to bed fairly early, as I was determined to get up early and at least see part of the milking. We couldn’t stay long at the farm, because we were planning to drive back to Melbourne via the Great Ocean Road which would take all day. Doug was not interested in joining me in my early adventure, so I told him I’d wake him around 8.

This Maid’s a-Milking

2005-11-13T14:09:00.000Z

Saturday, November 12

I had the alarm set for the ungodly hour of 6 AM so that I could make an appearance at the morning milking. I figured we’d come all this way to stay on a farm, I should check out the goods.

I forgot that farm’s have their own alarm clocks: roosters. At 5:30, the cock-a-doodle-doo woke me and every other animal on the farm (except Doug). I stayed in bed for about 20 minutes just listening to the sounds of the farm.

It was cold, so I put on a pair of jeans and one of Doug’s sweaters, laced up my hiking boots and headed into the dairy. Not surprisingly, I was the only farm guest who decided to brave the cold, damp, and smell of the dairy at milking time. Macka was there, dressed in a long black rubber smock and knee high “gum boots.” He greeted me cheerfully and told me where to stand so I could watch him work.
It all started simply enough. We chatted as he loaded a dozen cows into their feed/milking stalls and prepared to hook them up to the milking machines. He finally turned to me and asked, “Have you ever milked a cow?” I told him that not only had I never milked a cow, but I had never even been this close to a cow before. “Oh, well, you’d better get on down here and I’ll show you how to do it.”

So, down into the dairy I went. Macka showed me how to “handle the teat.” He assured me it wouldn’t break off, and soon enough I was actually milking a cow! At this point I realized that my boots were about to be ruined by the muck and mud on the floor, so I traded them in for some gum boots of my own.

Macka: “Let me show ya how to hook up these machines.”
Me: “Uh, OK.”

He showed me how to hold the attachments and get them to latch onto the cow’s teats. The cows don’t seem to like this too much, and they stamp and stomp around. I found this a little scary, but Macka keeps up a steady banter with the “girls” scolding them when needed with a loud, “Come on, you great fat tart!” or simply, “Go on, you old bitch!” I tried hooking up the machine, but it was covered in muck.

Macka: “If you’re going to stay in here, we better put you in a smock.”
Me: “Uh, OK.”
So, he dressed me up in a rubber smock and back to work we went. Before I knew it I was in there with Macka hooking machines up to cow udders and getting a crash course in the care and milking of Holsteins. It was dirty work. I soon found out the real value of the smock: the animals will pee or crap on anyone who has the misfortune of standing near them. Believe me, I was as near to them as anyone could ever expect to be. It’s a numbers game, really, at that proximity; you’re bound to get hit. The worst one was when a cow I was hooking up decided to let forth a golden shower. I ducked just in time to avoid a faceful of cow pee, but my smock got drenched.

Macka: “You got christened, I reckon!”
Me: “Uh, yeah. Cool.”

After two hours, all 138 cows were milked and the dairy truck was coming to collect the milk from last night and this morning’s collections. I stood there, literally covered in the most disgusting substances known to man or beast, and thought: how the hell did I get here? But, as crazy and disgusting as it was, it felt good to do “honest work.” Although Macka did most of the work (in fact, I was slowing him down), I barely noticed the time going by as I attached and detached the suction cups and kept an eye out for any raised tails (the only warning of an impending cow expulsion).

At about 8:30, I went back to Lodge 2 and called out to Doug to wake up. While he was doing his morning calisthenics, I took a walk around the farm, followed closely by an orange and yellow cat. There was a lot more activity at this point: there was a pony hitched up right outside our lodge, the rooster I’d heard earlier was stalking around checking out the hens, and the guy from the lodge next door was racing around after his 5 year old daughter who was terrorizing the baby animals (bunnies, chicks, cats).

After a very long and much needed shower, Doug and I took one last stroll around to say goodbye to the animals and Macka. Then, we were off to drive the Great Ocean Road.

Kata Tjuta Encounter

2005-11-13T14:08:00.000Z

Thursday, November 10

Our afternoon tour of Kata Tjuta didn’t start until 2:30, so we thought we’d sleep in, then get in a visit to the cultural center located in the national park. My eyes flew open at about 9:00 so I spent some time organizing my pictures. I can’t believe how many I have. It’s going to be so hard to decide which ones to print.

At about 11:00, I woke Doug up and took a walk around the resort grounds while he got ready. I had a long phone call with Jo (I haven’t dared calculate the cost of that one) while I enjoyed the breezy weather. We lucked out with the weather on this leg of the trip because it’s unseasonably cool. That means it’s only 90 when it’s usually 105.

We headed off to the cultural center (sorry, no photos allowed) and read a little more about the Anangu people. They have a very interesting relationship with the “whitefellas” that has evolved from combative to collaborative over the years. There are many sacred ceremonies that are gender-specific and are passed down from grandmothers to granddaughters and grandfathers to grandsons. They can’t reveal what these are, of course, because they are secret. I found it all fascinating.

Our Kata Tjuta (the “T” is silent) Encounter tour was led by Jodi, a twentysomething with multiple piercings. There were 10 of us on the tour, which is important because later, when pierced Jodi left 7 of us behind and we were left to tour the area on our own, you can calculate that she didn’t realize she was missing 70% of her group.

Kata Tjuta is the second mountain range in the park, not as famous as Uluru, but just as beautiful. The range used to be called The Olgas after the queen of a German province, but was changed back to its traditional name after the Handback. Our hike was only about 2km, but it was a little more challenging then our base walk because it was all uphill. Kata Tjuta apparently either gets more rain, or does a better job getting the water to the right places because there is a lot of lush greenery, much more so than Uluru. Of course, this is all speculation, because pierced Jodi somehow managed to lose 7/10ths of her group before the climb even began, so there was no color commentary from her.

After the climb, 7 out of 10 tour members who boarded the bus were disgruntled and filling out feedback forms. Jodi was oddly silent during the drive back to the resort. That is, until she abruptly veered the bus off to the side of the road, threw it in reverse, and started barreling backwards down the highway. Calmly she said, “I’ve seen a small animal in the road. I’m going to rescue it.” Then she got out of the bus and ran farther down the road. We all looked at each other and I said, “You know she’s leaving us here.” One of the other guys said, “Yeah. Can anybody drive a stick?”

But, not to fear, pierced Jodi came back and partially redeemed herself by producing one of the Outback’s most interesting specimens: the Thorny Devil.

Dinner was at one of the resort restaurants called the Outback BBQ. It’s a rough and tumble type of place where you cook your own meat. There was a musician there who played acoustic guitar and augmented classics by James Taylor and the Beatles with the gurgling sounds of the didgeridoo.

Uluru Base Walk

2005-11-13T14:06:00.000Z

Wednesday, November 9

When the alarm went off at 4:20AM, I though I must be in Hell. My throat was so dry, ugh. I hustled Doug out of his bed and we got ready to meet our group in front of the hotel to start our tour. We were told that it would take about 5 hours to complete the tour, which is basically a 10 km (over 6 miles) walk around the whole base of Uluru. We both took lots of water with us and headed off.

Our tour guide, Scott, was a fun kid who was full of stories about the legends of Uluru and about the desert in general. Doug and I were the youngest people on our tour, but let me tell ya, the oldsters left us in the dust most of the time.

The walk wasn’t very difficult, but it was long and our packs were heavy with all that water. The main reason the walk starts so early is that the temperatures are more manageable at that hour. I was actually a little chilly for the first hour. There was a good wind which kept the flies at bay for a little while.

It was cool to see the Rock from so many different angles and so close-up. From far away, it looks sort of like a pound cake. But up close, you can see all of the crevices and colors and there is an Anangu legend behind every one of them. For example, there might be a crevice that looks like a paw print. According to Annangu lore, it was left by a giant demon dingo that chased the original tribe members from that place.

We started learning about the history of the national park as well. Similar to our Native American population, the Anangu were tossed off the land sometime in the mid-40s and the whole area was turned into a nature reserve. Tourism quickly followed and many of the traditional aboriginal land management techniques were abandoned. As a result, the park became overrun with dead or unusable vegetation and the incidence of wildfires dramatically increased. Meanwhile, the Anangu people were petitioning to get the land back. Finally, in the mid-80s, the “Handback” occurred and now the Anangu people are once again the rightful landowners. They lease the land to the national park, as required in the Handback agreement.

We didn’t see many animals during our walk (we saw a dingo from the bus at about 5:30 AM), but Scott said this wasn’t unusual because the animals tend to stay away from people. We did see lots of birds, though, and Scott was good about pointing out the interesting trees and plants in the area.

We got back to our hotel at about 11. It was rough getting up so early, but I think it was really worth it. Of course, we immediately went back to bed.

Sounds of Silence Dinner

2005-11-13T14:05:00.000Z

Hours later, we once again boarded the bus for our evening tour event, the Sounds of Silence. Before I left Japan, The Pres had strongly recommended that we join this tour and I’m glad he did. The bus traveled out on some very rough road and took us a few kilometers away from the main resort. We were dropped off on the dunes where we were led up to a large area where we were served sparkling wine and canapés. We watched the sun go down over Uluru and Kata Tjuta while listening to the sounds of the didgeridoo.

Oddly, the “didge” is not native to the Northern Territory. But, due to tourism, it’s exhibited here and everywhere else in the country. Our didge player, Duane, gave a short talk about how to play the instrument. I didn’t understand a word, but he was amusing all the same.

After sunset, we were herded to the candlelit dining area. We sat at a table with three other parties: a woman (Sophie) and her parents (Trudy and Malcolm) from Wales; an older couple (Marie and Reginald) apparently living in sin in Sydney, and a fascinating couple from Holland whose names we couldn’t ever get right.

The wine was flowing and the conversation was lively. We all had stories to share and by the end of the evening, we agreed that we obviously had the most special table in the whole place. Reg made a toast to us and let us know that his son had proposed to his now-daughter-in-law at this even the year before.

Dinner included kangaroo steak (pretty good), crocodile Caesar salad (I don’t think I actually got any crocodile. If I did, I couldn’t taste it), and barramundi (some find of native fish). Of course, there was the requisite beef, chicken, etc and some lovely desserts.

After the meal, there was a fabulous “star talk.” The staff blew out all the candles so that they only light came from the moon. Then, a local astronomer gave a talk about the constellations. We were able to see so many stars and a few planets (Mars and Venus were really bright). Orion and a few of the zodiac constellations were also out. Unfortunately, we couldn’t see the Southern Cross at that time of night. It was a little trippy because they have a different view of the night sky than we do in the Northern Hemisphere. They have constellations we never see, and the ones we share are upside down! Even the moon looks like it’s backwards. At the risk of sounding corny, it was a magical evening: engaging conversations, good wine, and a starry night. The worries of life were literally thousands of miles away. All is right with the world.

Ayers Rock

2005-11-13T14:03:00.000Z

Tuesday, November 8

There was a huge storm overnight that woke me up. It was sort of thrilling and I snuggled under the covers to enjoy the thunder and lightening. We had to be up by 5:30 AM (yikes) to make sure we got to the airport on time for our flight to Ayers Rock. This is sometimes referred to as the Red Centre (or the Outback). We managed to make it to the airport on time but we were groggy and dazed.

The three-hour flight went fairly quickly and we arrived in Ayers Rock at about 10AM local time. Ayers Rock is 1 ½ hours behind Sydney which really threw me off. We rented a car and Doug bravely drove us to the hotel, The Ayers Rock Resort, which is literally the only place available to stay in the whole area. Ayers Rock resort is a huge compound that has four hotels ranging from 2-4 star plus a campground. It’s not an all-inclusive place, but everything you could possibly want is right on the grounds (restaurants, supermarket) and they will set up tours of the area.

Once we checked in, we took a little walk around the complex. The heat was unbelievable, about 40 C (104 F) and DRY. Between the flying, my still constant intake of tussin-based products, and the heat I literally can not drink enough water. I have quickly abandoned my need for bottled water as it costs about $5 a liter.

The touring options are a little overwhelming, but we have three days, so we decided to splurge and do three outings: the Uluru base walk, the Sounds of Silence dinner, and the Kata Tjuta Encounter. We didn’t schedule anything for our first day, though, because we were both exhausted and couldn’t bear the thought of actually doing anything constructive until we’d had some more sleep.

Late lunch at the Gecko Café (slow service, sub-par food) and then to the supermarket to stock up on water, trail snacks, and something for dinner. Our accommodations are in the Emu Walk apartments, so we have a small kitchen. Doug offered to play chef and make us a delicious pasta dinner.

After napping through the hottest part of the day, we hopped into the car and went into the national park to view Uluru at sunset. One thing I don’t think I’ve mentioned before is the flies. They are everywhere in this country! We thought we were plagued by them in Sydney, but they seem to have doubled in number out here. In Sydney we learned how to do the Australian Salute, which is what the locals call the frantic swatting actions required to keep the flies off your face! Luckily, they don’t bite, they are just annoying.

From the guidebook: The Uluru-Kata Tjuta National park is located in the Northern Territory, 335 km SW of Alice Springs. It the sacred land of the Anangu people, a tribe of aborigines that have been on this land for at least 35,000 years. The park is 1325 square km in size and is home to two major sites: Uluru (formerly “Ayers Rock”) and Kata Tjuta (formerly “The Olgas). Many tourists come to the park specifically to climb Uluru, which is about 350 m high. This is strongly discouraged by the Anangu people because the climb site is on sacred land and the route taken is part of a special ceremony. It is not illegal to climb, however, and there is a little bit of conflicting PR about making the climb. On the one hand, the resort staff will tell you how terrible and dangerous is the climb and that it’s disrespectful to the aboriginal people. On the other hand, there are a number of fairly expensive tour packages available to get you up on “the rock” if you are so inclined. We asked at one point why the climb is still legal. Of course, it all comes back to dollars and cents. The park entry fee is shared by the park service and the Anangu tribe. Since about 50% of tourists come expressly to climb Uluru, they fear that if they close the climb, they will lose that income. So, the plan is to discourage the climb as strongly as possible and let the word spread so that they can reduce the percentage of climb tourists. The hope is to close the climb by 2008. We decided fairly quickly that the climb was not for us. It’s not very safe and actually not very scenic, so why bother?

Sunset at the Rock was gorgeous. They say that the Rock changes colors many times, but I couldn’t really tell. There were lots of other tourists there looking at the Rock. I think I have about 60 pictures that probably all look exactly the same. But it is a beautiful site.

Early to bed because our morning tour starts at 5AM! Suckers.

Zootopia

2005-11-13T13:57:00.000Z

Monday, November 7

It’s a good thing that Doug is essentially a nocturnal being (Tisha calls him Wombat) because I have been an anchor so far on this trip. Because I spend the nights coughing and wheezing, the days have all started late and I’m generally not much fun to be around. Last night was the worst night yet. Tisha declared that the tussin I was taking was substandard (no arguments there) and produced two more types of syrup to try and quell my barking and gurgling. At about 5 am, I finally fell asleep, drugged beyond comprehension and praying for a quick death.

Oddly, I think I made it over the hump. I woke up at around 11:00 feeling better than I had in days. I was almost chipper. Almost.

Doug and I were determined not to miss the zoo this time, so we hustled out to the ferry and got the zoo pass. Marge was no where to be found.

The Taronga Zoo is really amazing. Even if you’re not into zoos, the views onto the harbor are beautiful. It’s situated at the top of a hill. We took the sky safari cable car which is like an enclosed ski lift.

Our first stop in the zoo was to get our picture taken with the koalas. It was obvious that the two zoo keepers manning the koala enclosure were over the cute=factor of the sleeping nocturnes. Angus [me with another Australian native animal, the crusty old coot] was especially peeved at the Canadian woman who started negotiating with him on the price of admission (it was $3 AUD, approximately $2.25 USD).

We spent a few minutes with Felicity and Adori before moving on. Angus recommended the Free-flight Bird Show as “the best show at the zoo.” Doug and I checked it out and it was great. There were all sorts of birds, including an eagle and some owls, and they were trained to fly over the audiences heads and demonstrate how they catch food and track prey.

We spent a few hours in the zoo, checking out all the exhibits, and ended up missing the last sky tram. We got on a bus that was headed back to Sydney via Military Road which is the main street that runs through the suburb of Mosman. Saucy had recommended that we stop into Mosman to check out the shops, specifically the toy shop he used to own. It was perfect timing. We got to the toy shop just as it was closing, so we only dropped in for a minute to say hello to Saucy’s former partner. Hopscotch is a kid’s dream. I was sorry we hadn’t made more time to explore.

Mosman is just the cutest neighborhood. The shops are all small and privately owned and the houses are straight out of Better Homes and Gardens. If I hit the Lotto or score a rich Aussie boy who can support me, that’s where I’ll live.

Later, we met Tisha for our farewell dinner in Sydney. We went to a neighborhood called Double Bay. I wish we had more time, but we have to be up at the crack for our flight to Uluru.

Doug spent a few minutes wandering around Tisha's back patio trying to steal wi-fi from one of her neighbors. He was successful, but he had to stand on one foot and hop around a little to keep the signal. See? Crime doesn't pay.

Bondi and the Bridge

2005-11-13T13:51:00.000Z

Sunday, November 6

We woke up to a gorgeous, sunny day. Tisha took us on a beach walk that started at Bronte (her local beach) and ended at the famous Bondi beach. It was the first weekend of “Sculpture By The Sea” so there were crowds of people doing exactly what we were doing. Local and international artist submit artwork to be displayed on the beaches and the surrounding area. I think Tisha’s favorite was the oversized beach chair and flip flops. I liked the big red intestines on the rocks.

In the afternoon, we planned to do a Bridge Climb at the Harbor Bridge, which is exactly what it sounds like. We were running late due to an overlong lunch at a poorly managed restaurant and missed our reservation for the climb. Luckily, there was space on the next climb.

The Harbor Bridge is one of the focal points in Sydney Harbor (along with the Opera House). The climb takes about 3 hours and is fairly intense. Getting to the top of the bridge basically entails climbing ladders and steep staircases, which wouldn’t be so scary if it wasn’t 440 feet high and looking down on 12 lanes of traffic and a harbor filled with ice-cold water and all sorts of hungry fishies. The Bridge Climb people had it all worked out, though. They made us sign all sorts of waivers, take a breathalyzer test, suit up in very unflattering jumpsuits, and practice our climbing techniques on a small scale version of the bridge before actually letting us outside. I was momentarily afraid that my enormous tussin intake would make me fail the breath test, but I passed. Suckers!

Our climbing guide, Luke, was a real dreamboat. I wanted to put him in my pocket and bring him home. At the start of the climb, he said anyone who was nervous should stand right behind him. Of course, I jumped right up there. Truth told, I wasn’t that nervous, but Luke had this Young-Leif-Garret-Before-He-Crippled-His-Best-Friend-in- a-Drunk-Driving-Accident-and-Became-a-Bloated-and-Bald-Has-Been vibe going on and that was really working for me.

Once we were actually on the bridge, it wasn’t that scary. Luke kept us amused with stories and trivia about the bridge and the major sites of the city (The oldest bridge climber was over 100 years old! A man once fell from the bridge… and survived!) and the views were spectacular. We weren’t allowed to bring our cameras on to the bridge (because they want to sell us souvenir shots) but I think that was actually a blessing in disguise. I think we spend so much time looking through the lens of the camera that we don’t take the time to really look at the sites we’re trying to capture.

When we got to the top of the bridge, Luke said, “Well, here we are: 183 meter, 440 feet, or 5.2 seconds. However you want to look at it.”

It was a great day, but all things come to an end, and the Robitussin eventually wears off.

Sydney Aquarium

2005-11-13T13:39:00.000Z

Saturday, November 5

It was a good thing Doug and I pushed ourselves yesterday to see the sights because we were fairly useless today. We slept late and then lounged on Tisha’s patio, chatting and snacking on tea and toast. Doug and I tried Vegemite. I prefer Skippy.

It’s Spring in Australia, so it’s not as hot as we expected and it’s been intermittently raining. While we found the rain a little annoying, the people of Sydney don’t complain because they are in the midst of a very long drought.

We didn’t leave the house until after 1:00 pm and we planned on going to the zoo. Once we found the right train to the right bus to the right ferry, we attempted to buy a “zoo pass” from the ferry ticket lady, we’ll call her Marge.

Marge said, sternly: “No. It’s too late for the zoo today. You’ll go to the aquarium today and do the zoo tomorrow.” And that was that.

So, the aquarium it was. Cool exhibits, although we were gypped on the seals (there were only two: one was sound asleep and the other was working overtime swimming in circles to make up for it). They naturally have an entire room devoted to Nemo and his crew.

After a light bite at a place called Pier 26, we headed home. My cold is morphing into some sort of plague. I’ve been guzzling Robitussin straight from the bottle. I think I’ve developed tussin resistance.

Welcome to Sydney

2005-11-13T13:08:00.000Z

Friday November 4

My arrival in Sydney on Friday morning was on schedule. I left the Germans behind and breezed through customs and finding Doug. Doug’s friend, Tisha, had very kindly offered to pick us up at the airport and let us stay at her gorgeous pad for during our time in Sydney.

Tisha is funny, fabulous, and far too generous for words. She and Doug met in NYC while Tisha was doing a short stint at the ad agency where Doug works. Unfortunately, Tisha needed to rush into work, so she brought us to her place to relax and get our bearings.

I immediately got into the bathtub for a long soak. Afterward, Doug and I discussed our options and decided that since it was early, we should take a rest before heading out. We napped on Tisha’s comfy couches until noon, which was absolutely the right thing to do.

Re-engergized, we set out to see some of the sights. Tisha lives just a short train ride from Circular Quay which is the heart of downtown Sydney (think: Opera House, Harbor Bridge, etc). Doug and I had made a list of some of the sites that we really wanted to see and actually followed a walking course from one of Doug’s guidebooks that led us through or past most of the major downtown attractions. We wandered through Hyde Park, into St. Mary’s Cathedral, past the Hyde Park Barracks (where they used to keep some of the convicts) and down Maquarie Street to the Opera House. It was at some point along this walk that I suddenly stopped and thought to myself, “Wow. Doug is great. He is just about as close to perfect as a human being can possibly be. In fact, even more so: he is a god.”

Note: Doug obviously hacked into my blog and wrote the preceding statements. But, it’s true, so I’ve left it in.

We spent a lot of time at the Opera House. It’s an amazing building and it’s a great place to sit down and watch the parade of tourists and locals enjoying the spring evening. We finally sat down at one of the many waterfront cafes and had a drink.

Tisha met us downtown and it was off to Café Sydney for a late dinner. Cafe Sydney is on the top floor of the Customs House, which had all sorts of interesting and useful information about Sydney and its history. There was a special exhibit in the lobby called the Yahoo! Think Tank. It’s a glass enclosed office where creative types have been sequestered for two weeks to work on creative briefs submitted by the general public. I don’t know if it’s the same creative types for the whole two weeks or if they work in shifts. All’s I know is that while I was watching, no one left to go to the bathroom.

It was a great first day. Unfortunately, when I got back to Tisha’s, my cough kicked in full force. I went to the local chemist (pharmacy) and stocked up on Robitussin, tissues, and cough drops.