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.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Uluru Base Walk
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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.
Saturday, November 12, 2005
The No Exit Row
Thursday, November 3
When they told me I’d be seated in the exit row, I thought: “Great! More leg room!” But, apparently Qantas had other ideas. I was shoved into the window seat next to the exit, which had some sort of hump feature that hit right around my knees. The magazine pocket for all three seats was jammed in there too. I was sitting with a German couple who looked less than thrilled to see that they were to be seated next to a hacking, irritated American.
As soon as possible, I pantomimed a request for multiple glasses of water. Then I took some Advil, an Ambien, and my new “cough powder” which tasted exactly the way I imagine rat poison would taste. I fell into an uncomfortable sleep. I’m not exactly sure what happened next, but I woke up eyeball to eyeball with a very unamused Frau. I think I might have tried to snuggle. I slurred an apology and stumbled to the ladies room. When I came out, there was a flight attendant there asking me if I was feeling OK. I waved him away and dove back into my seat. I noticed that Frau and her husband switched seats which I thought was odd.
When they told me I’d be seated in the exit row, I thought: “Great! More leg room!” But, apparently Qantas had other ideas. I was shoved into the window seat next to the exit, which had some sort of hump feature that hit right around my knees. The magazine pocket for all three seats was jammed in there too. I was sitting with a German couple who looked less than thrilled to see that they were to be seated next to a hacking, irritated American.
As soon as possible, I pantomimed a request for multiple glasses of water. Then I took some Advil, an Ambien, and my new “cough powder” which tasted exactly the way I imagine rat poison would taste. I fell into an uncomfortable sleep. I’m not exactly sure what happened next, but I woke up eyeball to eyeball with a very unamused Frau. I think I might have tried to snuggle. I slurred an apology and stumbled to the ladies room. When I came out, there was a flight attendant there asking me if I was feeling OK. I waved him away and dove back into my seat. I noticed that Frau and her husband switched seats which I thought was odd.
“Sorry, You Overweight”
I was amazed that I was able to pack everything into 2 suitcases (1 big, 1 small), 1 shoulder bag carry-on, and a shopping bag that held the gift that Doug and I bought for our hostess in Sydney. When I got to the check in counter, the agent looked at me with a very worried expression. She asked, “Nihongo ga wakarimasu ka?” (Do you speak Japanese?) I replied, “Sukoshi.” (Just a little).
Then she said, in English, “Sorry, you overweight.” I realized that she was not referring to my waistline, but to the weight of my baggage. As stupid as it sounds, it never occurred to me that there would be a limit to the weight of my bags. I had double the amount allowed. The agent told me that I could pay for the extra baggage. The price: 77,700 JPY ($770 USD).
OK, plan B?
She gave me a box and told me to start emptying my bags. Picture this, friends: me, my luggage, and a huge scale in the middle of the check in area. About an hour and two misunderstandings later, I had consolidated my stuff into one suitcase and two carry-ons. Two small boxes were checked at the Narita long-term bag check to be picked up and dealt with during my 12-hour layover in Tokyo after my Australian holiday. By the end of it all, I was sweaty and plagued with fits of coughing. Before they let me through security, the agents asked me, “Daijobu desu ka?” (Are you feeling all right?) I was worried they might think I have bird flu and wouldn’t let me travel. But they let me through. I got to my gate just in time to board the plane.
Then she said, in English, “Sorry, you overweight.” I realized that she was not referring to my waistline, but to the weight of my baggage. As stupid as it sounds, it never occurred to me that there would be a limit to the weight of my bags. I had double the amount allowed. The agent told me that I could pay for the extra baggage. The price: 77,700 JPY ($770 USD).
OK, plan B?
She gave me a box and told me to start emptying my bags. Picture this, friends: me, my luggage, and a huge scale in the middle of the check in area. About an hour and two misunderstandings later, I had consolidated my stuff into one suitcase and two carry-ons. Two small boxes were checked at the Narita long-term bag check to be picked up and dealt with during my 12-hour layover in Tokyo after my Australian holiday. By the end of it all, I was sweaty and plagued with fits of coughing. Before they let me through security, the agents asked me, “Daijobu desu ka?” (Are you feeling all right?) I was worried they might think I have bird flu and wouldn’t let me travel. But they let me through. I got to my gate just in time to board the plane.
Goodbye Girls
I had a car service picking me up at 4:45 to take me to Tokyo airport for my 8:00 flight from Tokyo to Sydney so I had most of the day to (sleep) and finish any final packing.
Despite the fact that I had no voice and was beginning to develop a cough, I was impressed with myself for being ready to go.
Thursday was a national holiday in Japan (Culture Day, I think) so Naoko and Yuki were free to spend the afternoon with me. Unfortunately, Miki had come down with a fever and a hangover so she was staying in bed. We met around 3:00 to have a cup of coffee and re-hash the previous evening’s events. I mainly did this through a serious of hand gestures. At this point my cough was getting worse so the girls took me back to the pharmacy. It was closed for inventory, but Yuki banged on the door and the pharmacist remembered me from the day before. Yuki talked to him about giving me some cough medicine so that I could sleep on the plane. He suggested “cough powder.” I was doubtful, but he insisted that it was better than any syrup.
The car was right on time, and I said my final goodbyes to Yuki and Naoko. We promised to keep in touch and see each other either in New York or Japan soon. On the way to the airport I thought a little about my time in Japan, but I wasn’t ready to really process all of the things I was feeling. I knew I had at least one more hurdle ahead… Narita Airport.
Despite the fact that I had no voice and was beginning to develop a cough, I was impressed with myself for being ready to go.
Thursday was a national holiday in Japan (Culture Day, I think) so Naoko and Yuki were free to spend the afternoon with me. Unfortunately, Miki had come down with a fever and a hangover so she was staying in bed. We met around 3:00 to have a cup of coffee and re-hash the previous evening’s events. I mainly did this through a serious of hand gestures. At this point my cough was getting worse so the girls took me back to the pharmacy. It was closed for inventory, but Yuki banged on the door and the pharmacist remembered me from the day before. Yuki talked to him about giving me some cough medicine so that I could sleep on the plane. He suggested “cough powder.” I was doubtful, but he insisted that it was better than any syrup.
The car was right on time, and I said my final goodbyes to Yuki and Naoko. We promised to keep in touch and see each other either in New York or Japan soon. On the way to the airport I thought a little about my time in Japan, but I wasn’t ready to really process all of the things I was feeling. I knew I had at least one more hurdle ahead… Narita Airport.
How I Lost My Voice
Thursday, November 2
When I woke up on Thursday morning, my usually-loud and a little raspy voice was missing and there was nothing but a parched sort of wind in its place. My throat seemed to be lined with steel wool. I mentally retraced my steps from the night before to try and remember where I could have misplaced my voice. Did I go to the beach and chug pints of sand and seawater? Did I visit a pampered poodle shop and accidentally swallow a squeaky toy? Or, could it be that I stayed out til 5 AM boozing and carousing with all the other drunks in town? Ah, yes, that’s it.
First there were 8:
My last night in Japan! Woo Hoo!! My friends arranged for a night on the town as my final send-off. The group: Miki, Naoko, Yuki, Tina from Taiko, The CD, Saucy, and Gerald/Gerard. It was a motley crew, but the food was great and the shochu was flowing. We started with dinner at Gonpachi, one of my favorite Tokyo restaurants. Gonpachi is a huge space with three separate restaurants. We ate in the sushi place which was busy and loud. Our table was competing for the “nosiest” award with a group of Japanese businessmen at the next table. The food was delightful and there were a few more gifts. Miki and Naoko gave me a cute little travel bag (to put some stuff in) and my very own (matching) sweat towel!
And then there were 7:
After a long dinner, most of us headed off to another place, an energetic, Australian-themed bar appropriately named “Café OZ”. The CD begged off saying that he had an early morning, but I suspect he was headed for the underground nightlife in Shibuya. At Café Oz, Saucy tried to teach me the correct way to order a beer in “Australian” (first lesson: never, ever order Foster’s). He demonstrated by saying to our [Japanese] waiter: “Schooner-a VB, mate!” (Large glass of Victoria Bitter, please). The waiter started blinking rapidly and foaming at the mouth. I think Saucy may have triggered a seizure. Luckily, Yuki intervened: “Nama bieru, Bikutori Bittu, onegaishimasu” (Large glass of Victoria’s Bitter, please).
Tina ordered tequila shots for everyone at the table. But Tequila and I had a very bad breakup in the late 90s, so I weaseled out of that one. Miki was not so lucky. She also had a cold but was drinking like a champ with the rest of us. I think she was taking antihistamines or something because within about 5 minutes of downing the shot, she was slumped over, snoring loudly. Once we determined that she was, in fact, not dead, we carried on and let her snooze away at the end of the table.
It was almost midnight and the specter of the “last train” was looming, so Yuki and Tina had to dash. The rest of us were committed to staying out later and paying the exorbitant taxi fares to get home. But, as Saucy put it, we needed a change in venue.
And then there were 4:
We put Miki in a cab and headed off to MUSE. It was crowded and the men outnumbered the women. Gerald/Gerard was standing around looking very British and providing a running commentary on the club’s blatant fire code violations. Naoko, Saucy, and I shook our groove thang and shouted over the music.
And then there were 3:
It must have been around 3 when Gerald/Gerard left us, but at that point I stopped checking my watch. The DJ at MUSE started mixing some truly awful beats, so our trio went in search of a nightcap. We ended up at Motown House, an unapologetically gaijin hangout that plays a relentless stream of American rock anthems. Within minutes of our arrival, a zaftig American women with waist-length bleached blonde hair, a screech owl’s voice, and a wardrobe two sizes too small started a fight with two guys at the bar. While Saucy was getting
himself involved in that chaos, Naoko was being lured onto the dance floor by a boozy, bloated, blond guy who looked like he may have at one time resembled Stephen Baldwin but has unfortunately spent the last 10 years pickling his liver and growing out his bangs.
My voice was weakening at this point, I remember, because when I was trying to shoo the BBBSBLA (boozy bloated blond Stephen Baldwin look-alike) away from Naoko I couldn’t raise my voice over the music. Saucy and I spent the next hour or so alternately gossiping about the office and guarding Naoko from BBBSBLA. If he came within 3 feet or her, Saucy would point to him and say, “Fuck off, mate.”
I knew it was time to go home when the conversation turned a bit, shall we say, blue.
It was almost 5AM when we lurched out onto the streets of Roppongi but it may well have been 5PM. The streets were crammed with people and cars were whizzing past. Before we poured ourselves into cabs, I tried to say goodbye, but no sound came out.
And then there was 1.
When I woke up on Thursday morning, my usually-loud and a little raspy voice was missing and there was nothing but a parched sort of wind in its place. My throat seemed to be lined with steel wool. I mentally retraced my steps from the night before to try and remember where I could have misplaced my voice. Did I go to the beach and chug pints of sand and seawater? Did I visit a pampered poodle shop and accidentally swallow a squeaky toy? Or, could it be that I stayed out til 5 AM boozing and carousing with all the other drunks in town? Ah, yes, that’s it.
First there were 8:
My last night in Japan! Woo Hoo!! My friends arranged for a night on the town as my final send-off. The group: Miki, Naoko, Yuki, Tina from Taiko, The CD, Saucy, and Gerald/Gerard. It was a motley crew, but the food was great and the shochu was flowing. We started with dinner at Gonpachi, one of my favorite Tokyo restaurants. Gonpachi is a huge space with three separate restaurants. We ate in the sushi place which was busy and loud. Our table was competing for the “nosiest” award with a group of Japanese businessmen at the next table. The food was delightful and there were a few more gifts. Miki and Naoko gave me a cute little travel bag (to put some stuff in) and my very own (matching) sweat towel!
[On a side note, I mentioned in a previous entry that all of the Japanese
carry their own “sweat towel.” I have since found out that this is because in
primary school, every child was required to carry certain items, towel included,
with them at all times and show them to any teacher on demand. The main purpose of the towel was to dry their hands after washing them in the restroom. It can also be used to mop the aforementioned sweaty brow or for any other reason one may need a towel. Oddly, many of them have never heard of Hitchihiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.]
And then there were 7:
After a long dinner, most of us headed off to another place, an energetic, Australian-themed bar appropriately named “Café OZ”. The CD begged off saying that he had an early morning, but I suspect he was headed for the underground nightlife in Shibuya. At Café Oz, Saucy tried to teach me the correct way to order a beer in “Australian” (first lesson: never, ever order Foster’s). He demonstrated by saying to our [Japanese] waiter: “Schooner-a VB, mate!” (Large glass of Victoria Bitter, please). The waiter started blinking rapidly and foaming at the mouth. I think Saucy may have triggered a seizure. Luckily, Yuki intervened: “Nama bieru, Bikutori Bittu, onegaishimasu” (Large glass of Victoria’s Bitter, please).
Tina ordered tequila shots for everyone at the table. But Tequila and I had a very bad breakup in the late 90s, so I weaseled out of that one. Miki was not so lucky. She also had a cold but was drinking like a champ with the rest of us. I think she was taking antihistamines or something because within about 5 minutes of downing the shot, she was slumped over, snoring loudly. Once we determined that she was, in fact, not dead, we carried on and let her snooze away at the end of the table.
It was almost midnight and the specter of the “last train” was looming, so Yuki and Tina had to dash. The rest of us were committed to staying out later and paying the exorbitant taxi fares to get home. But, as Saucy put it, we needed a change in venue.
And then there were 4:
We put Miki in a cab and headed off to MUSE. It was crowded and the men outnumbered the women. Gerald/Gerard was standing around looking very British and providing a running commentary on the club’s blatant fire code violations. Naoko, Saucy, and I shook our groove thang and shouted over the music.
And then there were 3:
It must have been around 3 when Gerald/Gerard left us, but at that point I stopped checking my watch. The DJ at MUSE started mixing some truly awful beats, so our trio went in search of a nightcap. We ended up at Motown House, an unapologetically gaijin hangout that plays a relentless stream of American rock anthems. Within minutes of our arrival, a zaftig American women with waist-length bleached blonde hair, a screech owl’s voice, and a wardrobe two sizes too small started a fight with two guys at the bar. While Saucy was getting
himself involved in that chaos, Naoko was being lured onto the dance floor by a boozy, bloated, blond guy who looked like he may have at one time resembled Stephen Baldwin but has unfortunately spent the last 10 years pickling his liver and growing out his bangs.My voice was weakening at this point, I remember, because when I was trying to shoo the BBBSBLA (boozy bloated blond Stephen Baldwin look-alike) away from Naoko I couldn’t raise my voice over the music. Saucy and I spent the next hour or so alternately gossiping about the office and guarding Naoko from BBBSBLA. If he came within 3 feet or her, Saucy would point to him and say, “Fuck off, mate.”
I knew it was time to go home when the conversation turned a bit, shall we say, blue.
It was almost 5AM when we lurched out onto the streets of Roppongi but it may well have been 5PM. The streets were crammed with people and cars were whizzing past. Before we poured ourselves into cabs, I tried to say goodbye, but no sound came out.
And then there was 1.
The Pack Rat
I decided to spend most of the day Tuesday nursing my cold and packing up the rest of my stuff. I still can’t figure out how I got so much stuff. I remember when I was packing for the trip, more than a few people warned me not to pack too much stuff. Did I listen? Of course not. Hence, more stuff than I can possibly imagine. I don’t even know what’s in half of the boxes I sent home last week.
On Wednesday morning I had an appointment with the apartment manager to check the place before I leave. It was the shortest and least thorough check I’ve ever been through. He literally stood in the middle of the room, did a slow 360 degree turn, bowed, and said, “Daijobu desu.” (It’s all OK)
I took one last shopping trip to Itoya, the mecca of Japanese paper goods. Of course, this just added to all my stuff.
I dropped by the office to say my final goodbyes and to make sure my boxes were getting fedexed out. Luckily, I was there when the fedex guy came because, for once, I was honest on the customs forms and wrote “Japanese tea” on one of the airbills. You’d have thought I wrote “crack cocaine.” The guy made me open the box and take out the tea. Great - more stuff to lug on the plane.
On Wednesday morning I had an appointment with the apartment manager to check the place before I leave. It was the shortest and least thorough check I’ve ever been through. He literally stood in the middle of the room, did a slow 360 degree turn, bowed, and said, “Daijobu desu.” (It’s all OK)
I took one last shopping trip to Itoya, the mecca of Japanese paper goods. Of course, this just added to all my stuff.
I dropped by the office to say my final goodbyes and to make sure my boxes were getting fedexed out. Luckily, I was there when the fedex guy came because, for once, I was honest on the customs forms and wrote “Japanese tea” on one of the airbills. You’d have thought I wrote “crack cocaine.” The guy made me open the box and take out the tea. Great - more stuff to lug on the plane.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Update from Sydney
Hi All!
I've arrived in Australia and am travelling around with my friend Doug. We've had almost NO access to the internet, so no blog updates for days and days. But, rest assured, I am keeping up with my entries and will post them all en masse with photos as soon as possible. Probably this weekend.
Sydney was beautiful! Adding it to my list of cities I could live in... Now, we are in the Outback (Ayers Rock). It is HOT HOT HOT here but as they say, it's a dry heat.
We start touring tomorrow and have a 6KM hike starting at 5AM tomoorrw. Why do I get myself into these things?
For those who care - my cold is almost gone. Hoping to scare it off for good this week. Maybe some aboriginal doctor can make me a poultice.
More later!
C
I've arrived in Australia and am travelling around with my friend Doug. We've had almost NO access to the internet, so no blog updates for days and days. But, rest assured, I am keeping up with my entries and will post them all en masse with photos as soon as possible. Probably this weekend.
Sydney was beautiful! Adding it to my list of cities I could live in... Now, we are in the Outback (Ayers Rock). It is HOT HOT HOT here but as they say, it's a dry heat.
We start touring tomorrow and have a 6KM hike starting at 5AM tomoorrw. Why do I get myself into these things?
For those who care - my cold is almost gone. Hoping to scare it off for good this week. Maybe some aboriginal doctor can make me a poultice.
More later!
C
Thursday, November 03, 2005
There Must Be Something Going Around
It seems that the Japanese use the phrase "catch a cold" to include any possible kind of illness you can imagine. Headache? Caught a cold. Foot pain? Caught a cold. Ennui? Yep, sounds like a cold to me.
So, when I woke up on Monday morning with a scratchy throat and the sniffles, Miki and Naoko immediately asked, "Did you catch a cold?" I said, no, not a cold, must be the dry air, the second-hand smoke, the constant boozing. Couldn't be a cold.
Flash forward 3 days: It's a cold.
I spent all day Tuesday in the apartment packing and lounging around. I was supposed to go to Kamakura as my last little trip in Japan, but I figured it would be better to catch up on sleep and rest up for my trip to Oz. Wednesday I went into the office to ship the last of my stuff and say my final goodbyes to the good people at the company (the bad ones I just ignored.)
Ami went to the pharmacy with me to help me get some over-the-counter cold remedy. You actually have to ask the pharmacist for it. He recommended this vile tasting powder substance that is supposed to taste like lemons but actually tastes like baby aspirin. He through in a free sample of liquid vitamins. I'm afraid to taste it. It's probably squid-flavored.
So, when I woke up on Monday morning with a scratchy throat and the sniffles, Miki and Naoko immediately asked, "Did you catch a cold?" I said, no, not a cold, must be the dry air, the second-hand smoke, the constant boozing. Couldn't be a cold.
Flash forward 3 days: It's a cold.
I spent all day Tuesday in the apartment packing and lounging around. I was supposed to go to Kamakura as my last little trip in Japan, but I figured it would be better to catch up on sleep and rest up for my trip to Oz. Wednesday I went into the office to ship the last of my stuff and say my final goodbyes to the good people at the company (the bad ones I just ignored.)
Ami went to the pharmacy with me to help me get some over-the-counter cold remedy. You actually have to ask the pharmacist for it. He recommended this vile tasting powder substance that is supposed to taste like lemons but actually tastes like baby aspirin. He through in a free sample of liquid vitamins. I'm afraid to taste it. It's probably squid-flavored.
Looks suspicious to me.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Okinawa
I don't know how we did it, but Miki, Naoko and I met at about 5:15 AM to get to Tokyo Haneda airport for our flight to Okinawa. It's a short trip from Tokyo to Okinawa (under three hours).
The weather was good when we arrived so we got a few hours on the beach on Saturday afternoon. We spent the night in the Naha area of Okinawa, which is kind of like the downtown area.
The weather was good when we arrived so we got a few hours on the beach on Saturday afternoon. We spent the night in the Naha area of Okinawa, which is kind of like the downtown area.
The cab driver recommended this izakaya.
Typical Okinawan dish with goya and spam. Orion is the local beer.
Naoko modeling the sashimi salad.
With Miki and spareribs.
Okinawa is very much like Hawaii, small tropical islands with a large military presence. Okinawa was actually under US control from the end of WWII until 1972 when it became part of Japan again. But there are still about 40,000 American military personnel on the island. So, there's a lot of American-style businesses around.
It was rainy and cold on Sunday and we drove to our next hotel, a resort called Alivila. It was just gorgeous. Too bad the weather wasn't cooperating. So, we went to the Okinawa Churami Aquarium. That was incredible.
The view on Sunday. 
The Kuroshio Sea: this tank features whale sharks, giant rays, and all manner of deep sea creatures. Notice the size of the people next to the sharks.
Monday started off really rainy, so we took off on a drive to a lighthouse nearby. When we got back, the sun came out and we spent most of the day on the beach. We took a little time out to visit the spa for facial treatments! Very girlie.
Slightly better view on Monday.
Last shot on the beach before heading to the airport.
Last Day at the Office
Friday
Unbelievably, I made it to my client meeting, showered and suited, by 8:30 am. Saucy and BakiBu also made it in time, which might qualify as a minor miracle. I was really thrilled that it was my last client meeting. It's nice to hand the reigns over to someone else for a change.
The day was a blur of packing up, finishing projects, saying goodbyes. There were a few more tears (shocking!) and gifts (yea!). I went to lunch with Ami and Saucy at my favorite local sushi place and then to a tea salon with one of the creative directors.
Ami and Saucy
I had dinner with the soon-to-be retired Group Pres. He took me to one of his favorite places, an old fashioned, "mom & pop" style place. He was definitely a regular. Mom and Pop greeted him like an old friend and seemed to know what he wanted before he asked for it.
The Group Pres is a really interesting guy. He was born and raised in Japan but was educated in international schools. After he retires, he's planning on taking 6 months to canoe around the southern islands of Japan. Ambitious Japan, indeed.
Later, I went out with some of the girls for Naoko's birthday. We had to make it an early night (home by 1:00 am!) because Miki, Naoko, and I had to be at the airport at 5:45 am for our flight to Okinawa. Luckily, I don't sleep anyway.
This was at a Danish place called Cafe Daisy.
Little Devils. Naoko (right) with her friend Yuka.
Sayonara Party
Thursday Night
The company threw me a "sayonara" party at a place called the China Palace in Ginza. While the food was not my favorite, the mood was good and we had a lot of fun.
The people in the office were uncharacteristically emotional as they said their goodbyes. One of the office assistants actually cried. I had no idea they were so attached to your girl. Of course, maybe she was crying because I was standing on her foot.
There were gifts (yea!). The Pres gave me a silk cloth called a furoshiki. It is traditionally used for wrapping (before the modern handbag) and can be used for decoration, wall hanging, etc. He told me that it was made of kimono silk. Gorgeous. I also got an "earthquake warning system." It's a bobble head doll that you put on your desk and you'll know that an earthquake is coming because the head will start wiggling.
One of the coolest things came from the Creative team (of course). In Japan, everyone has their own hanko (stamp) that has their name on it. Hanko are used in place of a signature on official documents. The creatives gave me a set of three hanko with my name in each of the three Japanese alphabets (hirigana, katakana, and kanji). They are so cool. Each hanko comes in a small carrying case that includes the ink pad. Pictures will be added later as the hanko are already packed away. I just think it's such a uniquely Japanese gift and so personal!
On another note, it was revealed tonight (not so subtly) that one of the office assistants has a mad crush on the Aussie CD (maybe I should call him "Glossy"). She asked him if she could be his "number one girlfriend" in Japan! He was, of course, ridiculously flattered but also knew that he would be in for a world of trouble if he even considered it. But it was fun to watch!
The company threw me a "sayonara" party at a place called the China Palace in Ginza. While the food was not my favorite, the mood was good and we had a lot of fun.
The people in the office were uncharacteristically emotional as they said their goodbyes. One of the office assistants actually cried. I had no idea they were so attached to your girl. Of course, maybe she was crying because I was standing on her foot.
There were gifts (yea!). The Pres gave me a silk cloth called a furoshiki. It is traditionally used for wrapping (before the modern handbag) and can be used for decoration, wall hanging, etc. He told me that it was made of kimono silk. Gorgeous. I also got an "earthquake warning system." It's a bobble head doll that you put on your desk and you'll know that an earthquake is coming because the head will start wiggling.
One of the coolest things came from the Creative team (of course). In Japan, everyone has their own hanko (stamp) that has their name on it. Hanko are used in place of a signature on official documents. The creatives gave me a set of three hanko with my name in each of the three Japanese alphabets (hirigana, katakana, and kanji). They are so cool. Each hanko comes in a small carrying case that includes the ink pad. Pictures will be added later as the hanko are already packed away. I just think it's such a uniquely Japanese gift and so personal!
On another note, it was revealed tonight (not so subtly) that one of the office assistants has a mad crush on the Aussie CD (maybe I should call him "Glossy"). She asked him if she could be his "number one girlfriend" in Japan! He was, of course, ridiculously flattered but also knew that he would be in for a world of trouble if he even considered it. But it was fun to watch!
The food. 
The Pres, giving me a parting gift.
The office paparazzi trying to make a love connection.
Ami, my interpretor, with one of the office party boys.
Why I Love Karaoke in Japan (Sayonara Party Continued)
11:00 PM: About 20 of us left the Chinese restaurant and headed over to the nearest Big Echo karaoke box. The Aussie promised to pay, so attendance was high.
Why I love Karaoke in Japan:
It's the great equalizer. The most senior managers sing along with the receptionists.
The Pres sings "Smile" asa his sayonara to his favorite gaijin. (That's me).
Why I love Karaoke in Japan:
It's the great equalizer. The most senior managers sing along with the receptionists.
The Pres sings "Smile" asa his sayonara to his favorite gaijin. (That's me).People who normally don't even crack a smile get up and shake some booty.
People choose the most unlikely songs.
The Aussie knows every word to "My Heart Will Go On." Seriously.
Everybody gets backup singers and percussion!
He's like my version of the Harlettes.
The new Aussie (maybe I'll call him the "Saucy") can snuggle with someone he doesn't even know. And that's OK!
Making a good impression.
Schoolgirl crushes are revealed...
And they call it puppy love.
It's Magic! (Sayonara Party Further Continued)
2:00 am. We couldn't possibly call it a night this early. So a small group of us went out in search of more drinks and a glimpse of weird Tokyo.
One of the guys took us into a nondescript building (is there any other kind?) and down three flights of dimly-lit stairs saying, "Now, you'll see the real underground Tokyo!" I really thought that we were going to one of those seedy clubs that you see in the movies. I wasn't sure what was going to happen.
I should have known to take him literally. Three floors down is a hidden gem: TOKI, a magic bar!
We got there just in time to order a drink and watch the floorshow. A young magician did about 10 minutes of magic wherein he produced three strangely colored live doves, levitated a table, and made a guy in the audience where a fish mask. We loved it. After the show, the two magicians roamed through the room doing tricks at each table. The female magician had me write my name on a card, shuffle the deck, and give the deck back to her. Suddenly, there was my card - stuck to the ceiling. Maybe it was just the vodka/tonics talking, but I was impressed.
We finally left to go home at around 3:30. I was not convinced that I would make it to my client meeting at 9:00 am. Two alarm clocks were set....
One of the guys took us into a nondescript building (is there any other kind?) and down three flights of dimly-lit stairs saying, "Now, you'll see the real underground Tokyo!" I really thought that we were going to one of those seedy clubs that you see in the movies. I wasn't sure what was going to happen.
I should have known to take him literally. Three floors down is a hidden gem: TOKI, a magic bar!
We got there just in time to order a drink and watch the floorshow. A young magician did about 10 minutes of magic wherein he produced three strangely colored live doves, levitated a table, and made a guy in the audience where a fish mask. We loved it. After the show, the two magicians roamed through the room doing tricks at each table. The female magician had me write my name on a card, shuffle the deck, and give the deck back to her. Suddenly, there was my card - stuck to the ceiling. Maybe it was just the vodka/tonics talking, but I was impressed.
We finally left to go home at around 3:30. I was not convinced that I would make it to my client meeting at 9:00 am. Two alarm clocks were set....
It's all in the name of showbiz. I just can't believe it wasn't me in the fish hat.
The big finish.
How'd she do that?
Kodak Moment.
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