I figured that ‘right now’ is the perfect place to begin my summary of the last 5 years. Right in the middle of a global pandemic. The perfect pause to update and reflect on where I am (on the sofa watching Selling Sunset, drinking coffee and eating avocado on toast – some things really do not change, even when EVERYTHING changes) my current outlook, and what’s been going on during those years. I’ve spent most of the time since the UK locked down alone, which I enjoyed to begin with. I’d always fantasised about becoming a recluse for a long period of time, plus I was grateful for the respite after an intense few years. After losing a very close family member to breast cancer 3 years ago, and shooting up and down the country to be with her as much as possible during the last two years of her life, as well as training for (and doing) the London Marathon, plus disappearing almost every weekend afterwards, I hadn’t given myself any real time to think or process what was happening/had happened. Busy is as busy does – no matter what (or who) it is that’s keeping you busy. Constantly giving myself distractions, which seemed to work at first, but only really prolonged the impact, which then hit me like a truck a few years down the line. In a nutshell, I am no longer lean or serene (not that I was ever truly serene) and I am perfectly okay with that. Life – live it, and don’t ever take it for granted – just give yourself space and time as you do so. The family member was my sister, and she was only 42 years old. All the time throughout her illness, she would get a boost because she was losing weight – something she had tried to do during most of her adolescent/adult life – but the reason she was losing so much weight so quickly was because she was very sick, so I’d visit her and congratulate her on this, then go home and cry my eyes out, because I knew deep down that this meant that her health was deteriorating rapidly. “Louise was happy until the end.” somebody said to me a year later. I didn’t mention the times she would call me late at night in tears, frightened about what was happening to her. Trying my best to stay strong for her by calming her down, and then crying myself to sleep at night. Distraction. There it is again. Distract from feeling and try to distract others from their feelings too. So that’s what I did, I distracted myself with work, holidays and people, spending an absolute fortune in the process. I also bought my first flat (about a mile and a half from where I was before) which kept me very busy and distracted during my first year of grieving. Busy = no feelings. Not having to acknowledge all the things I said/did to my sister during her life that now made me feel like the biggest bitch on the planet. Siblings fall out, it’s a natural part of family life, but the guilt I now feel can be phenomenal. I was there when she really needed me – true, but it doesn’t stop the overwhelming guilt from surfacing when I least expect it. There’s a lot I still need to process.The holidays were a great way to postpone that guilt from kicking in – a huge distraction. Something to look forward to at first, the excitement of being away and then repeat the cycle by booking another immediately on return.Stockholm, Oslo, Amsterdam, Lanzarote, Benidorm, Paris, Algarve, Hvar, Milan, Cyprus, Dubai, Cape Town, Lisbon, Valencia, Ibiza, Seville, Rome, Fuertaventura & Copenhagen. Copenhagen – my 41st birthday, the day Covid 19 was declared a global pandemic by the World Health Organisation. We flew back two days later on an aeroplane carrying about 20 people, and I’ve been working from home ever since. Lockdown kicked in a week later, and there were weeks when I only left the flat to take out the rubbish. I saw nobody I knew, other than neighbours in passing, until the 4th July when I went to the hairdressers. No family or friends until I went back up North for a visit on the 27th July. Time to feel and think, with no distractions. Not having to put on a brave face every day or tread carefully in case someone takes my mood* personally (*mood = grief.) The very thing I’d avoided, but needed, for years. And 5 months of it. So that’s where I am currently. In semi isolation, but not climbing the walls just yet. Happy to see people, but equally happy to be alone.
Carb Loading in the Eternal City
I’d arranged to fly to Rome for the Easter break with my friend, Roschelle. I was a little nervous about the prospect of stuffing my face full of pizza and ice cream and still being able to fit in my dresses, but, as the old adage goes; When in Rome…
Flying over the Alps
We had a very early flight, and were over the Alps by 9am. I thought my trip around the world earlier in the year would have killed my love of airports and flying, but I was still giddy as we left the tarmac at Stansted.
The Colosseum
After being shown around our apartment by an Italian named Flavio, who had left us a basket of mini chocolate eggs, we caught the tram to the colosseum. I’d always wanted to visit Rome, and had built an image in my head of what it would look like (predominantly ancient) so catching a tram to the colosseum seemed a little odd at first.
Another Ancient Ruin
After a morning of wandering around, we became quite accustomed to seeing ancient ruins amidst modern shopping areas. Especially when we arrived at the Pantheon.
The Pantheon By Day
The approach to this ancient building is a little odd. Coffee shops and modern clothing stores lead off in all directions. I was expecting it to be in a large expanse of dust. I was quite wrong. The Pantheon is one of the most well preserved buildings in Ancient Rome, and is actually still in use.
It also looks very pretty when lit up at night. Even moreso if you eat your dinner and drink prosecco whilst overlooking it.
The Pantheon at Dusk
We didn’t have the best experience at the restaurant we chose that night. The staff were quite rude and the meal was overpriced. I won’t reveal the name, but if you ever visit ‘The Eternal City’ you can probably work out which one it is using the photo above.
Oh Yes We Did
On our way back to the apartment, we stumbled upon an ice cream parlour that was actually still open. This was to become our favourite during our short stay in Rome. I’d had pizza, pasta and tiramisu already that day (plus some of Flavio’s chocolate eggs!) but it would have been rude not to indulge a little further. It was Easter after all.
The Spanish Steps
We walked absolutely miles the following day, and it was really sunny too. Starting off at the Colosseum, we walked all the way up to the Spanish Steps which were heaving.
Trevi Fountain
The Trevi Fountain is stunning, but inconveniently situated down a busy side street, which was incredibly crowded. We didn’t stay too long as I was feeling claustrophobic.
Vatican City
Finally, we went over the river and into Vatican City. It was Good Friday, there were people from all over the world queuing up to enter. Roschelle and I went for ice cream.
Vatican Ice Cream
We’d walked so far that day, and were both exhausted, so dinner was a low key affair as we just wanted to sleep.
Vatican City
On Easter Saturday the rain came. We spent most of the day hiding out in pizza restaurants and coffee shops. I really didn’t want to get my pink Converse wet!
Vespas Everywhere
The cobbles were very slippery, so we couldn’t even walk as fast as we had been.
Viagra Flavoured Ice Cream
It was time for another ice cream stop. The bright blue one was supposedly Viagra flavoured. I have no idea what Viagra tastes like, but it didn’t make my tongue go hard and it had a bubblegum flavour, so it wasn’t a completely bad experience.
Tastes Like Bubblegum
On our way back to the apartment that night, we got caught in a storm of biblical proportions. I’ve still, to this day, never seen a storm like it. Not just rain, giant hailstones too. There were rivers flowing down the streets. My pink converse and Roschelle’s leather jacket didn’t stand a chance. It felt like an eternity getting back to the apartment, and we arrived looking like swamp creatures. Everything was wet, and I mean EVERYTHING!
We pondered as to whether this was punishment for sacking off the Vatican and going for an ice cream sundae instead – surely not, right?
Who Ate All The Ice Cream?
The following morning we said goodbye to our beloved Rome (and our favourite ice cream parlour) and left for the airport.
I’d eaten so much over the course of the weekend that I felt like a whale. I was going to have to find a way to turn my overindulgence in a positive.
Guilt Run
I turned to whole experience into a carb loading session.
Oh no you didn’t!
As I’d just almost run a half marathon, five months before I was due to, I got a bit ambitious and signed up for a full one in twelve months time. Half marathon/marathon training has it’s benefits. It wouldn’t be the last time I’d use this tactic to burn off excessive amounts of carbohydrates.
Back To Reality, Body Pump & Birthday Nonsense
If you’ve ever taken time off to go travelling for an extended period of time, you’ll know how it feels to return. I was only away for four weeks yet I completely understand it when people I’ve spoken to say that you change, but everything else stays the same.
It’s fun telling everyone the stories of what happened while you were on your travels, but within a couple of days I began to get this sinking feeling in my stomach – I was, dare I admit it, BORED!
I trudged along for my first official weigh in after my month away and I’d managed to maintain, which I was relieved about, even though I’d weighed myself at least 6 times while I was out of the country.
Before I embarked on my trip, I’d enquired about increasing my pool only membership at my local leisure centre to a fully comp one that would allow me to do all classes and use the gym too. On my second day back in the UK, I paid the extra and booked myself a gym induction. At the same time, I booked myself onto a body pump class later in the week.
Body Pump (which is a registered trademark) was created in 1991 in Auckland, New Zealand with the aim of getting more men in the aerobic studio, apparently. I’d done a version of the class a few times during my short lived fitness obsession in 2005, and was familiar with the bars and plates, but aside from using my 1.5kg free weights every morning over the last six months, I’d done no ‘heavy metal’ since.
I rocked up at the gym on the Thursday night, slightly nervous about this first class. I thought it started at 7pm. It didn’t, it had already started. I walked in a little bit sheepish and asked the instructor if I could join in. She shouted her response right in my face “There’s space over here, you’re VERY late!”
That was the very first time I met my fitness instructor. She’s now one of my favourite people on the planet.
I looked around the studio and saw thirty people of all different ages (admittedly mostly women) who were all fit and toned. Not body builders and not waifs either. It was quite refreshing and not intimidating at all.
I’d got pretty good at doing squats, as I’d been doing them almost every day for over eight months. I just hadn’t done them with a weighted bar on my shoulders for almost nine years. I also had absolutely no upper body strength whatsoever and therefore really struggled with chest presses and tricep dips – but I gave it my best shot. I would try several classes on the gym timetable over the next month including step aerobics, hatha yoga and zumba as well as still doing aqua aerobics on a Tuesday night AND running on a Saturday morning.
I was eating more too (increased exercise often results in an increased appetite), which I was a little bit worried about – given my dietary history. I was completely paranoid that I was going to put all the weight I’d lost back on, as this had happened every single time I’d managed to get it off in the past. The rational part of my brain concluded that the two (increased exercise and increased appetite) would balance each other out, whereas the obsessive part of my brain became increasingly paranoid that the balance would eventually tip – sigh!
Regardless of this, I needed to tone up, so the exercise regime was here to stay. I also needed to look closely at my nutrition as I’d gone so extreme towards the end of the last year, that my hair had stopped growing. My hairdresser had waited until it started growing back (coincidentally around the same time as my appetite began to increase and I started eating more) to tell me. She explained it as being a similar scenario to when women get pregnant and lose their hair. The unborn baby gets lots of the nutrients from the food and our hair is the last part of the body to get the nutrients. I’d dropped my calories so much that my hair was getting very few nutrients towards the end of last year.
Fortunately, I’d brought my big furry black K-Mart hat back from New York to cover my head up during the cold months…
The following week I had an ‘away day’ which involved an evening of dressing up, dancing and drinking. It was a bloody good excuse to bust out another wig (of which I have several.)
On my way back, I walked from Waterloo to King’s Cross, which is a good few miles. And to sweat out the remaining alcohol, I did an 8k run when I got home.
If anything, this actually made me feel a little better.
A few weeks later, I turned 35. My birthday fell on a Tuesday, so my good friend, Jodi and I went to Busaba Eathai for dinner and then went on a bar crawl around Shoreditch.
We sampled MANY cocktails that evening. It was fun to have a night off from the gym and just enjoy myself.
I’d booked a ticket to go up to Leeds at the weekend to celebrate with my friends back home. It all started out so civilised with lunch with Helen (who I would climb Ben Nevis with later in the year) at my favourite vegetarian cafe ‘Roots and Fruits’ http://www.rootsandfruits.net/
…which then turned into fizz at Brown’s on The Headrow…
…and cocktails, of course…
…and a cucumber later with Alastair…
I tell a lie, we didn’t eat the cucumber, but we did drink lots of prosecco before heading to the Viaduct for the cabaret show, which I can barely remember as I’d had so much to drink!
I left around 1am as I was going for lunch with my Dad and sister the following day. I felt absolutely dreadful after all the booze, so I set out on a 5k run later in the afternoon – to ‘sweat it out’ and got so into it, that I ended up running 10k. I went all the way out to Roundhay Park and back in the spitting rain, which was actually quite refreshing.
Shortly after my birthday, I hit my target. I say ‘target’ but it wasn’t my original target. The lady who ran the group had left and put me at target on the system before she went. It seemed like a good place to take a breather after going hell for leather and losing so rapidly the year before. I was weight training now, which meant I’d be building muscle, and muscle is denser than fat. I would still be obsessed with the number on the scale, but the number on the scale would no longer tell the whole story.
The Big Apple For Three Days Keeps The Boredom At Bay
My flight from San Francisco was scheduled overnight. It was also delayed, which was just great considering I’d deliberately arrived at the airport a little early.
I tried to look on the bright side. As I was almost falling asleep anyway, maybe I’d pass out as soon as I got on the plane.
No such luck, unfortunately. After eventually boarding, we were held at the gate for a further 30 minutes and after take off, I was wide awake.
They don’t call them ‘red eyes’ for nothing. I landed at JFK International Airport feeling like death and with the worst stomach ache ever.
I was just grateful that I’d had the foresight to get my coat and gloves out of my backpack before checking in, as this ‘winter wonderland’ greeted me upon landing.
My backpack arrived off the carousel covered in bloody snow! I still had a sunburnt scalp from Australia and now my fingers felt like they were frost bitten.
I couldn’t moan too much about it though, as I’d missed the really hideous weather. The ‘polar vortex’ had been and gone a few weeks previously. This was just your usual bleak, New York winter weather.
After a lengthy journey on the subway & PATH train, I arrived at my friend Sam’s Hoboken apartment.
Her boyfriend, Andy, let me in and I proceeded to drink all of their Nespresso pods, exactly as I had done two years ago when I last visited.
So there I was, feeling like a zombie reject from the Thriller video with caffeine induced jitters. After a quick shower, change of clothes and couple of Nespresso pods, I was more then ready to take another bite out of the big apple. In fact, I reckoned I could probably swallow it whole.
I headed straight for Times Square with my hood up and my gloves on. I was meeting Sam after work, so I had a couple of hours to explore.
This was my third trip to New York. I’d first arrived in 2008 and returned four years later to visit Sam after she moved over from London.
Each time, I had walked miles and miles and miles, even though the last time I visited, I found it much harder to get around.
Not this time! New York City was made for pavement pounding. The streets work off a grid system and it’s completely flat – I was in heaven, even if I could barely feel my toes.
I was glad to get to the bar and order a large glass of red wine, with the sole purpose of warming myself up. Sam said she was still hungover from the night before (you can take the girl out of Liverpool) and ordered a soft drink, before whisking me off to a fantastic raw food restaurant called ‘Pure Food & Wine’, which is just off Union Square. It was quite close to where we’d gone to see Fuerza Bruta in 2012, so I remembered the area well.
The food was absolutely delicious. I had creamed corn, pumpkin seed and kale chips as a starter, and zucchini ravioli for my main course. We both had an iced fruit smoothie, but I’ll own up that I drank half of Sam’s too (oops!)
We caught the PATH train back to Hoboken and had an early night. I’d heard the weather was going to be brighter the following day and wanted an early start.
Here I was in another friend’s home where there was a set of scales in the bathroom. I jumped on first thing in the morning. I was the same as I had been in San Francisco. I’d been so used to big losses over the last year, that I hadn’t really thought about what I’d do to maintain my weight loss, and I’d been petrified that my four weeks away from the old routine would be the beginning of my demise. Thankfully, my lifestyle had changed so much for the better that I hated being sedentary. I was in the perfect place to up my activity levels, so I put my trainers on and headed into Manhattan.
The weather forecast was spot on and this was to be one of my favourite days in New York City. Even better than the time Sam asked an NYPD cop for directions and he couldn’t understand her accent, which I think was the same day we asked a girl in a speakeasy to take a photo of us and she started to pose thinking we wanted one of her (?!!) and also the same day we had a screaming argument with a taxi driver and were thrown out of the taxi blocks away from Sam’s apartment. The drunken nights were fun, but things were about to change.
I’d waited almost two years to do that.
Due to the snow, Central Park was pretty desolate. Every other time I’d visited the Alice in Wonderland statue, I’d had to fight hundreds of children in order to get close to it. On this day, I had to get one of the park officials to take this photo as he was the only person close by.
That was to be my final comparison picture. My work wasn’t finished, but it was about to change direction slightly. I’ll cover in a future post. I finally felt content, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever truly felt that. If I had, it had been fleeting. To be happy in yourself; comfortable in your own skin and not because of anything or anyone, really is the greatest feeling.
It’s easy to get lost in Central Park as it’s absolutely massive. It’s even more difficult to navigate your way around it when it’s covered with a blanket of snow, but it sure looks pretty!
I was in such a good mood that I put my iPod on and walked all the way down 5th Avenue to Union Square.
I went for lunch at Whole Foods. The Union Square branch is huge. I spent hours wandering around there. They even have colour coded checkout queues. It was full of NYU students all studying while they ate.
My good intentions were about to go to pot, as my next stop off was the West Village, and as any self respecting Sex and the City fan is aware, as well as many fashion boutiques and the location of Carrie Bradshaw’s apartment, it’s also home to Magnolia Bakery which sells (in my opinion) the best cupcakes in the world.
After taking a photo of two Japanese tourists on Carrie Bradshaw’s doorstep, they returned the favour and I headed for the meat packing district. I still had a couple of hours before I was due to meet Sam, so I went for a coffee at Pastis, where we’d had brunch after a wander along the High Line during my last trip to the Big Apple. This is the problem with New York. The more you visit, the more it feels like home. I’m wanting to book a flight as I type this, but I shall resist as my bank account would buckle under the financial strain.
I was meeting Sam at a bar called Turks & Frogs in the West Village (no prizes for guessing the nationality of the owners.) I arrived first and ordered another glass of red to warm up. Sam arrived and ordered another soft drink . I hadn’t been drinking much recently, but this really wasn’t like Sam. After our drinks arrived, she told me the real reason why she wasn’t drinking. She was going to become a Mum!
This was such exciting news that I didn’t care that there wasn’t going to be any wild and crazy nights during this trip. In truth, we’d had more than our fair share of crazy nights out over the last 17 years, so I was more than happy to go for dinner and talk about her wonderful news.
We ate at an Italian called L’Artusi http://m.lartusi.com/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.lartusi.com%2F#2858 and I had a lovely risotto. This restaurant had a great atmosphere. I’d love to go again.
Afterwards we stopped off for (non alcoholic) cocktails at a bar called Employment. I was wearing jeans and trainers and didn’t care. There was another storm due in the next day. I’d lugged a pair of high heeled shoes all the way around the world and wouldn’t get to wear them due to the weather – oh well.
The storm arrived overnight, so the following morning, I put my hood up and set off for lower Manhattan. On every street corner Philip Seymour Hoffman was staring back at me. He’d been found dead in his New York apartment the day I left San Francisco aged only 46. I’d seen lots of paparazzi outside one of his apartments the day before. I only knew this because I’d asked who they were waiting for, thinking it was going to be some teeny bopper like Justin Bieber or Miley Cyrus. I was wrong.
This was the day when I thought I was going to get frost bite. Even though the snow on the ground had turned into slush, there was new freezing rain coming in and my gloves were soaked within half an hour. I could only cope with the cold for an hour at a time before I had to duck into the nearest Starbucks to warm up.
I’d wanted to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge, as I had done in 2008, but it was far too blustery. Instead I wandered into Little Italy for a slice of cheesecake (it had to be done.)
The rest of the day was spent wandering around and taking photos. Almost every time I stepped off a curb, my foot became submerged in freezing cold slushy water – yuck!
After buying myself a silly black furry hat from K-Mart, and a ridiculously bright pair of gloves, I wandered up 9th Avenue to meet Sam.
We had tickets to see ‘Once’ on Broadway, but fancied a cheap bite to eat first.
We went for a pizza slice at Two Boots on the Upper West Side, where the above photo was taken.
I’m not in the habit of eating pizza, I rarely ate it during some of my greatest binges either, but if you can’t enjoy a pizza slice in Manhattan, where can you? (I’d visit Rome a few months after, but more on that later!)
At Two Boots, you can order The Bird, The Dude, Night Tripper, Larry Tate and Mr Pink – amongst others. I think I had a slice of Earth Mother. Sam regularly reviews food in New York restaurants (not pizza slice take out places though!) if you’re ever in NYC, have a read of this http://www.foodspotting.com/732204-samo
After a quick drink at Hakkasan, we went to see the show, which was wonderful. I won’t spoil it for you myself, I’ll just steal someone’s review instead http://www.broadway.com/shows/once/reviews/#reviews-anchor
It was my final day in New York, and also the last day of the entire trip. I’d made it from Thailand to New York City without a bank card (Sam & I had done an online transfer when I arrived which would tide me over until I got back to London) and shortly my month of ‘globetrotting’ would come to an end.
On reflection, it felt like I’d been away for three months, not one, even though my time had been fairly limited in each country. In my first and last destinations, I’d found out that friends were pregnant. Kelly told me of her pregnancy in Dubai on the first day of my travels. She now has a beautiful baby girl, and Sam is due to give birth in three weeks time.
I had a few hours left before I had to head over to JFK, and I spent them ‘saying goodbye’ to New York. I’d had three days of playing tourist. Doing exactly what I do best; walking lots and taking photos. My calorie burn was off the scale. In a country known for a high obesity rate, New Yorkers (especially those in Manhattan) are among the fittest. The reason being that they tend to walk everywhere.
I maintain that if I could live anywhere else in the world, it would be here. I love the hustle and bustle of London, and NYC is like London ON STEROIDS.
My flight was indirect (dirt cheap at £277 if I connected in Reykjavik) and although I was sad to be leaving, I was ready to go home.
You can spend a lot of your time wishing you were somewhere else. I still do it now – always wanting to book another holiday – but the main thing I came to realise during this trip was how much I love London and am glad I chose to make it my home all those years ago. I’d gone all around the world and discovered that I was exactly where I needed to be.
I had a three hour layover in Reykjavik, quite possibly the most boring three hours of my life, unless you count the time I went to the cinema to see the movie ‘Heat’.
It was still dark when I boarded the Heathrow bound plane at 9am, and I couldn’t wait to get back to London.
I arrived in London feeling very groggy and wearing yesterday’s clothes and make up – nice! After an hour on the Piccadilly Line, I caught the bus straight to the Muswell Hill branch of HSBC to pick up my new bank card where it had been waiting for me for three and a half weeks.
Then I sat and had a coffee in Starbucks, glad to be back, yet not wanting to go home, as then it really would all be over. I also needed to keep myself awake as long as possible to get back on Greenwich Mean Time.
There was a part of me that though ‘what was that all about?’ I’d caught up with a lot of friends in far flung places, which was pretty cool…
…and I’d visited places I’d wanted to go to since I was a child…
I had a think about what I’d discovered over the last twenty eight days:
1: I can’t sleep on planes
2: I am STILL useless with money
3: Dubai looks like Legoland in the desert
4: It’s not always sunny near the equator
5: Durian fruit absolutely stink
6: Burger King is called Burger King everywhere except Australia where it is called Hungry Jack
7: Calories are not displayed on the nutritional information labels in Australia
8: It rains a lot in January in Fiji
9: I have some fantastic friends…
10: …and the best Dad in the world
I’d circumnavigated the globe in 28 days. My carbon footprint was the size of a mutant yeti’s, and I owed my Dad a small fortune, but I’d done it.
I do love a challenge, and thirteen flights in 28 days is pretty exhausting, yet I found my visit to six countries on three continents in two hemispheres quite exhilarating, and I still would, after I’d got rid of the jet lag.
That’s only 9 of the flights. I couldn’t fit them all into one grid.
2014 had started on a high, but how the hell was I going to top this?
The Golden Gate To Wellness
My flight from Nadi to Los Angeles was due to leave around 10:30pm on Thursday 30th January. It was a day I would pretty much end up living twice.
As I’d gradually travelled East around the globe, I’d lost a fair few hours as I’d moved across time zones. I was about to get all of those (plus a few more) back after crossing the International Date Line.
This was also the flight that would take me back across the equator and into the Northern Hemisphere, once again. Two imaginary lines (four if you count the Tropic of Capricorn and Tropic of Cancer too!) In other words, a Geography geek’s dream.
It was an eleven hour flight. The longest flight of the whole trip. I watched The Hunger Games (even though I’d stopped reading the book halfway through in Thailand) and ate the dreadful food that Fiji Airways provided me with.
As I was basically living the 30th January twice over, did this mean I could eat twice my daily calorie allowance? (I’m joking!)
I landed at Los Angeles approximately ten hours before I’d taken off from Fiji. I was officially a time traveller, of sorts.
One problem with ‘time travel’ – even a cardboard cutout of a dead icon will look more life like than you do afterwards.
After collecting my backpack, I hot footed to my next terminal, which was conveniently located next door (there are a total of 9 operating terminals at LAX, so I was quite lucky on this occasion.)
It felt good to be in California. I’d changed my last remaining Fiji dollars into US dollars before leaving Nadi, and had just enough to buy some yoghurt with granola, a banana, some water and a fridge magnet (of course.)
I left LA feeling almost human again, even though the granola had contained gluten (FDA – why, why, WHY?!) and arrived in San Francisco feeling wide awake, perhaps due to the bumpy flight.
My friends, Natalie and Nixon, along with their baby daughter Zoe, picked me up from the airport, and drove me back to their fantastic apartment for the most magnificent, home made feast I could have imagined. I can still taste the spicy carrot and coconut milk soup we had to start. I’ve yet to make it myself, but I have the recipe memorised.
I think it’s fair to say that they have one of the best views of San Francisco, especially at night.
I’d been awake for almost 36 hours and was close to passing out. I was looking forward to exploring the following day and (hopefully successfully) retrieving some more cash from HSBC.
I found a set of scales in the bathroom first thing in the morning and decided to assess the damage I’d done in Fiji. I think I will forever more be obsessed with the scales, but rather that than completely ignore them as I had done between 2010 – 2012.
I’d somehow lost the weight I’d gained in Sydney, despite having eaten more junk food in Fiji. I put it down to dehydration from the long haul flight, albeit relieved, and made breakfast.
It was a good 18 degrees cooler than what I’d been used to throughout the rest of my trip, so as well as digging out all my ‘normal weather’ clothes, I was back on the porridge. Well, at least I was just as soon as I’d managed to get back in the apartment after accidentally locking myself out on the balcony whilst taking this picture…
It was a lovely sunny day, so I walked into Chinatown to do my emergency encashment. On the way there, I came across a rather lively Chinese New Year procession.
Nixon later told me that San Francisco has the largest concentrated population of Chinese people outside of China. I was 34 and still learning.
The staff at this branch were very helpful and everything was sorted within an hour. I went to get a coffee and buy a fridge magnet (priorities) and by the time I got back, it had all gone through successfully.
Natalie, Nixon & Zoe were coming to take me on a whistle-stop Sightseeing tour.
I’d been to San Francisco six years previously, so knew my way around the touristy parts, but back then my camera was awful, and I wanted to get some good pictures. So first and foremost…
Quite possibly the most famous bridge in the world…
…followed by the most crooked street in the world.
And last, but by no means least, one of the most colourful squares in the world.
I didn’t make it to the Japanese Tea Garden during my last visit, so I wanted to have a nosey around this time. I could have got lost in there, even amongst the tiny bonsai trees.
San Francisco is an amateur photographer’s dream.
It was also a Mecca for the hippies (sorry, ‘counterculture enthusiasts’) of the 60s. The leftovers of which I bumped into when taking this photo.
A group of stoned tramps asked me for money. I told them I didn’t have any (white lie) and that I’d lost my bank card in Thailand (that bit was true.) They said that if I’d just come from Thailand, I must be interested in buying some mushrooms. I got back in the car as quickly as I could. The only mushrooms I’d be buying would come from Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s.
That evening Nixon cooked up a Mexican storm for us, and we were joined by Natalie’s brother, Adam and his wife, Megan – which is just as well really, as the food was so good, I would have eaten the lot!
After dinner Adam, Megan and I drove to the local Safeway (I had no idea they had them in the US) and I was promptly warned about the incredibly ‘sketchy’ people who frequented it at night time.
We pulled up at the front – so far so good – and after getting out I noticed there was someone asleep in the neighbouring car (a bit odd.) I took a few more steps and accidentally kicked over a large bottle of beer, the owner of which had just returned to his car with his elderly parents and was about to drive them home. I think ‘sketchy’ was putting it mildly, and I had to console myself with a bottle of kombucha (fermented tea) afterwards.
The weather was lovely the following day too, and I wanted to wander down through the Mission district into the Castro area (once a fag hag, always a fag hag.)
It felt good to just put my trainers on and be able to walk everywhere. I even loved the ridiculously steep streets. I got vertigo walking up and down some of them, to the point where I stood frozen on the spot, too frightened that I’d lose my balance and topple over. Luckily, the steepest streets come with a warning.
I arrived in the Castro around noon, just in time for Sunday brunch. Disappointingly, I ended up in Starbucks (seriously, again?) but the clientele of the Castro Starbucks were fantastic. You know how normally everyone in a coffee shop is engrossed in a book, or messing about on their iPads and MacBooks? Well in this one, perfect strangers just started talking to me. I got to tell them all about my trip and they listened intently (or at least pretended to.) it was very refreshing, especially after twelve years of living in London where even making eye contact on public transport is usually avoided.
After scaling some pretty scary inclines on the way back, Natalie, Zoe and I went to Trader Joe’s and a health food shop called Rainbow Foods. Think of healthy countries in the world and the USA is probably at the bottom of your list. California is different. For every ihop and Chuck e Cheese, you’ve probably got three juice bars. A healthier lifestyle is encouraged (they even sell kombucha in the sketchy Safeways!) which is how I think it should be. After seeing the size of the checkout queue in Trader Joe’s, we quickly scuttled into Rainbow Foods. I’ve since discovered that the queue in Trader Joe’s in renowned for being almost as big as your weekly shopping bill in Whole Foods.
It rained on my last day in San Francisco. I was taken to a Pacific Ocean conservation area. Due to the windy weather, the ocean was quite ferocious.
It’s funny how a change in weather can make everything look completely different.
I didn’t wander too far after lunch, but did find a visit a lovely little coffee shop called Farley’s in Potrero Hill. One day I’ll give up caffeine – promise *crosses fingers*
My flight to New York was scheduled for 11:30pm and it was Superbowl Sunday. After watching the Seattle Seahawks beat the Denver Cowboys (in Whole Foods, bizarrely!) I said goodbye to Natalie and Zoe before Nixon dropped me off at the airport for my red eye flight.
The whole purpose of this trip was to get to see friends who lived on different continents. That was fantastic, but saying goodbye when you know you’re not going to see them for a long time is very hard. I’m eternally grateful to those who put me up (and put up with me) along the way.
Before checking my bag in, I had to dig out my coat and gloves. My friend in New York had just sent me a message to say it was snowing in The Big Apple. It was 16 degrees in San Francisco and it had been 32 in Fiji.
Temperatures were about to go down to minus 6 – yikes!
Fiji – The Friendliest Place On Earth
After two wonderful days of catching up with friends in Sydney, it was time to leave Australia. I’d had such glorious weather since I arrived, and I was really looking forward to checking out the beaches of my next destination – Fiji.
As I was checking in for my flight at Sydney Kingford Smith airport, I was asked to provide details of all of my connecting flights for my journey back to London. This was the ONLY time I was ever asked to do this, and all of my paperwork was in the bottom of my backpack. For the next ten minutes, I was crouched down, pulling everything out and laying it all over the check in floor, which was quite embarrassing. After providing the relevant documentation, including my incredibly detailed flight itinerary spreadsheet, the check in lady gave my baggage a priority label, me an express immigration card and sent me on my way.
After a quiet cappuccino and a fair bit of free WiFi abuse, I looked to change my remaining Australian dollars into Fiji dollars, but the exchange rate at the airport was extortionate, compared to what the currency app on my iPhone was quoting. I decided to take a risk and wait until I arrived in Fiji.
I was flying Fiji Airways and the staff were unbelievably friendly. I’d heard that Fijians were among the friendliest people in the world, and the cabin crew very much lived up to that description.
After taking off from Sydney, we flew east over the coast and I could see most of the beaches I’d visited a couple of days before. It looked like Sydney was in for another beautiful, sunny day.
It was during this flight that I picked up Jason Vale’s ‘Slim 4 Life’ book again, in an effort to stay healthy while I was away. Airline food is never the best, and despite all of my good intentions during my flight between London and Dubai. I’d eaten pretty much everything that had been put in front of me while cruising above the clouds ever since. I’d spoken to a few people who had been to Fiji and the food available didn’t get a glowing report.
Fiji is an archipelago in the South Pacific, and lies around 1,000 miles north east of New Zealand. It was a Crown Colony until 1970, and Queen Elizabeth II’s face still adorns all of their bank notes, as I discovered upon arrival at Nadi airport and collected my Fiji dollars at much better rate than I was offered in Sydney.
We had touched down quite late in the evening, and the sky was overcast. We’d had a fair bit of turbulence during the last portion of the flight too, which was a little unnerving.
As mentioned previously, I only had two nights in Fiji, which seemed ridiculous, even to me. I was staying on a beautiful tropical island, and imagined I’d never want to leave.
The hotel had arranged for a car to pick me up from the airport and the rain got heavier en route. I asked the driver if it had been sunny that day and he said it had. It gave me a little bit of hope.
My friends were right about the food. The only vegetarian option on the menu at the hotel was a margherita pizza. I ate it – ON BOTH NIGHTS.
I went to bed feeling stuffed, bloated and absolutely knackered. I hoped to swim and walk most of it off the following day.
I woke up to the sound of torrential rain. I nipped out to the gym and cycled 10km on the stationary bike while watching an Australian news channel. It seemed we were in the midst of a tropical cyclone that had now reached the east coast of Australia too. It looked like my morning swim wasn’t to be, but, despite the weather warning, I was still hoping the storm would pass by the afternoon, so after breakfast I asked one of the ladies on reception which way to go to get to the beach. She looked horrified and immediately urged me not to go. I was a little puzzled by this and asked if there was a problem with the beach. Was it unsafe? Would I get swept away if the bad weather persisted? Maybe, but she was more concerned that there would be someone waiting in the sugar cane to jump out and “get me” on the way there.
I never did get to the beach…
Let me just make that a little clearer. I went to Fiji and didn’t go to the beach. I could have cried, but instead I went for a walk… in the torrential rain.
McDonalds – yes they’re EVERYWHERE. No, I didn’t go.
Most of my pictures from Fiji are in black and white, because the place looked so grim in the terrible weather.
So many taxis stopped to see if I wanted a lift, but I said no. I needed to stretch my legs. I got as far as the big hypermarket, close to the airport, but that was about as exciting as my day was going to get. On the way back the rain got so bad that I saw flip flops floating down the street.
I’d also seen a little coffee shop closer to my hotel and headed back up the road.
I made it back to the cafe and ordered a coffee. The rain was getting heavier and heavier, so I chatted to the guy who ran it. It turned out that he was from Gloucester and had move here with his Fijian wife seven years ago. They had met at the British Library near King’s Cross station in London – just up the road from where I work. It really is a small world. Although I was only in Nandi two days, in lieu of a visit to the beach, this became my favourite place in Fiji http://www.tastefiji.com/pages/taste-fiji-kitchen
After two hours of chatting, the rain showed no sign of calming down, so I made a run for it and went back to my hotel room to get changed for dinner.
Due to the storm, I was the only person in the restaurant that night, so I amused myself by getting photographs with the staff, who said they’d seen me out walking earlier – anyone would think I’d been cartwheeling down the street, the way hotel staff think it’s odd that someone would walk rather than take a taxi.
I was twelve hours ahead of the UK, so when I was awake, my friends and family were asleep – that’s how far away I was. Not so much fun when you’re stuck inside on your own.
Thursday the 30th January was to be the longest day of my life. In fact, I almost ended up living that day twice. This was the day that I finally accomplished time travel. Sounds like the beginning of a really bad sci fi film, doesn’t it? In actual fact, that evening, I was due to fly to Los Angeles which involved crossing the international date line.
My flight wasn’t due to leave until 10:30pm, and it was still raining so I hid in the gym for a bit and went on the bike. There is nothing more boring than a tropical island in the rain. If it rains in a big city, you can head to a museum, cinema or shopping mall or a pub to pass the time. In Fiji, it was still 32 degrees, but wet.
I got talking to an older American couple over breakfast. They were on their way to Australia for three months and had a two day layover in Fiji – exactly the same as me. We agreed that were were glad we’d kept our stay short, even though all of our friends thought we were nuts coming to this ‘tropical paradise’ for only two nights.
The next eight hours really dragged, but were an experience, nonetheless. I went on a bus which had tarpaulin covering it to keep the rain out and went into Nadi town to buy some souvenirs (mainly for myself!)
The sun came out that afternoon, albeit momentarily. I wasn’t chancing it and went back to my favourite cafe to chat with the owners and buy another handmade frangipani soap. They sold some lovely cakes, and I did indulge. I was going to head to Los Angeles with a food baby the size of Vern Troyer, and I had eleven hours of airline food to get through too – I was not overjoyed about this.
I had another driver to drop me off at the airport, and I was hoping my flight was going to leave on time, as I had a connection to make at LAX.
The sun decided to put in an appearance just as I arrived at the airport on my way out of the country – typical!
If I do ever go back to Fiji – and I hope to at some point – I will know not to go in January, if I want good weather. Looking on the bright side, despite the horrific tropical storms (and the lousy food), the people really are among the friendliest I’ve ever met, the men wear skirts and I’m still obsessed with the smell of frangipani.
Blog Hop – Women Writing
Slightly off the topic of health, fitness and my circumnavigation of the globe; my fabulous friend on the other side of the world, Susan Sykes (who writes http://www.dougdownunder.wordpress.com and kindly put me up and looked after me when I visited Brisbane earlier this year) has nominated me as this week’s Blog Hop, to help promote women’s writing. Thank you very much Sue, your twenty aussie dollars are in the post!
An old friend first suggested that I begin writing a blog when she saw constant updates of my London walks on Instagram. I thought no one would be interested in reading about them (perhaps they’re still not) but in hindsight, it was one of the best things I ever did. I was making steps along the health and fitness road, and found that writing about my experiences, in the form on an online diary (which included staying on track during holidays, hen parties, weddings, Christmas and the odd drunken night out) really helped me to stay focussed. Twelve months on, from the feedback I’ve been getting from family and friends, I’m now inspiring others to do the same, as well as training for a half marathon myself.
Why do I write what I do?
I like to write, as it helps me to process the cacophony of thoughts that whirl around my brain on a minute to minute basis. I was always told that stories are best when they’re based on personal experience, so I write about what’s currently happening and reflect on the past in a (hopefully) entertaining way.
How the Blog Hop works
Write a description of yourself as a writer and answer the following questions, then nominate another 2-3 women writers/bloggers to participate. I have only nominated one so far, but am working on the other two.
What am I working on/writing?
I’m writing about my own life, including past and current experiences, and on subjects ranging from health and fitness to travel, with thoughts, observations and conclusions drawn along the way.
Why do I write what I do?
The best piece of advice I was ever given on the subject was to “write about what you know.” so that’s exactly what I try to do. I always had a tendency to be a little extreme in life (during my youth and well into my thirties) and I find that writing helps me to put everything in perspective and stay grounded.
Next Weeks Blog Hopper:
I would like to nominate the wonderful Siobhan Long, who writes http://www.fuelfresh.wordpress.com – Siobhan has been a great influence to me over the last eighteen months, and continues to be on a weekly basis. I love reading the reviews she writes of new and fun health and well being places that I previously didn’t even know existed.
My name is Siobhan. My blog is about healthy living in London. I review the latest exercise classes, restaurants, and alternative therapies. I also conduct interviews with some of my healthy inspirations ranging from personal trainers to nutritionists. My site is for anyone who wants to eat well, train hard and live well. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I do writing it!
xx
Sydney on the Rocks, Beach Hikes & Australia Day
My five days up in the Whitsundays were gloriously hot and sunny. So sunny that I got pretty badly burnt. On the morning that I was due to fly to Sydney, the rain finally arrived, just as I boarded the boat to take me to the airport. My system was full of salt and sugar after my junk food laden stay in Airlie Beach, and that, coupled with the miserable weather, made me want to crawl under a blanket and stuff my face. Since I was due to fly for only two hours with Virgin Australia, with no hope of a blanket, never mind an in flight meal, I picked myself up an overpriced pumpkin and cous cous salad and washed it down with a coffee.
As we took off from Hamilton Island airport, the rain was still hammering down on the tarmac. I was hoping the weather wouldn’t follow me all the way down to Sydney. I’d presumed that an internal flight between a tropical paradise and one of the biggest cities in Australia in the middle of summer would be filled with Australians. As it happened, I ended up sitting next to two scousers during the flight.
I’ve mentioned before that there are a large proportion of UK emigrants living in Australia. My friend Amanda, who I was staying with in Sydney, was originally from Manchester. I’d seen her six months earlier when she and her fiance had visited London. Amanda had emigrated nine years ago and had said that if I were ever to go to Australia, I should make sure I was there on Australia Day, which is celebrated annually on 26 the January, and marks the anniversary of the 1788 arrival of the First Fleet of British Ships at Port Jackson, New South Wales.
My flight to Sydney was scheduled for the 26th January, as I’d basically planned my whole circumnavigation around being there on that very date, just as discussed with Amanda almost a decade earlier. I’m usually true to my word!
On my way down the East coast, I read an article (see above) that reinforced something I’d read in a book called ‘Slim 4 Life’ by Jason Vale. The idea that many of us, in the Western world are starving ourselves of nutrients, despite stuffing ourselves silly with junk food. I’ve noticed such a difference since I cleaned up my eating. My skin is clearer, as are the whites of my eyes. Cutting down on alcohol and increasing my water intake had helped massively too.
Amanda picked me up at the airport and took me back to her apartment, where I quickly got changed. Sydney was the place that I had the most friends to catch up with along my route, so I was feeling a bit giddy.
I was told we were heading down to ‘The Rocks’ which I presumed to be a load of old rocks in Sydney Harbour. In reality, it was just a tourist precinct with lots of bars and shops – perfect!
My friend Meghan had recently moved from Los Angeles to Sydney (I was in Thailand the day she landed) and she came to meet us at the pub. I was wearing my silly $5 ‘Aussie Day’ vest that I’d bought in Airlie Beach (seemed appropriate!) and after a few drinks our party (which had grown nicely in size) headed down to Opera Bar by the Opera House for a bite to eat.
After all of the junk in the Whitsundays, my healthier dinner was most welcome. I’d also had a couple of glasses of wine and was really beginning to get into the spirit. I was only there for two days, and really had to make the most of it. So, first things first, I stuck an Australian flag transfer on my face (as you do!)
12 months earlier, this would have been the beginning of a wild and crazy night, but all I really wanted was a sodding coffee. I may be beyond help as far as that vice goes…
The day had gone incredibly quickly, but it was lovely to spend it with friends and experience Sydney on Australia Day. As it fell on a Sunday this year, my friend had the following day off work and kindly suggested taking me on a beach hiking tour in the morning – sounded good to me.
I weighed myself on Amanda’s scales and I’d gained a couple of pounds. To be honest, I wasn’t too put out. After the junk I’d been eating, I guess it was inevitable. I was positive I could get rid of it before I returned to the UK, so I didn’t worry about it too much. I’d spent the previous twelve months being glued to the scales, and probably still would be, if I had access to them every day of my trip.
After spoiling me with a good breakfast of egg and avocado on toast, we drove down to Bondi Beach to begin our trek. It was going to be another tough Monday morning (I’m joking!)
We were walking from Bondi to Bronte and the route would take us round Tamarama (nicknamed ‘Glamarama’ for the aesthically pleasing crowds it draws) too. Some of the houses surrounding it are absolutely incredible.
Bronte Beach really reminded me of the UK, despite the 32 degree heat. I’d forgotten my sunscreen (idiot!) but the life guards had a big supply of it, so I used that instead.
That afternoon, I was meeting some old work colleagues of mine who had moved out to Australia six months previously. We met for a drink and caught up on what had happened since they left. Meghan came along to meet us too, and after our drinks, we went for a little wander over to the Opera House and through the botanical gardens. There were many stops for photographs, as the weather was absolutely perfect that day.
When I saw the picture below, I had no idea who the people in it were, until I recognised my friend on the right. That was a pretty odd moment, seeing my back and shoulders for the first time. It reinforced the fact that all my mornings of using light weights had served a purpose. And to think, my dumbbells had sat under the same sofa that I’d sat on wolfing down Haagen Dazs for three whole years!
I’d already enquired about increasing my pool only membership to a fully comp gym membership before I left London, and this photo cemented the idea in my head. I wanted to be leaner and toned. I’d done this all by myself, so imagine what I could achieve with the guidance of a professional. There will be (a hell of a) lot more on that in a future post…
We finished off with a drink in Darling Harbour and listened to stories of sharing a caravan with a giant spider and other horrors native to Australia, then I caught the bus back to Amanda’s all by myself. I was flying to Fiji the morning after, so as a treat we had a halloumi wrap and some very naughty panna cotta gelato from the Italian restaurant down the road.
The actual gelato shop opposite was never open whenever we passed by. The guy who ran it would just close up whenever he felt like it. In hindsight, this was probably a blessing in disguise.
Sydney was one of those places that I’d seen on tv so many times throughout my life, that didn’t look or feel how I’d expected it to at all. I felt exactly the same about New York when I first went there. I was slightly disappointed but grew to love it even more with each revisit. I reckon I’ll feel the same about Sydney, the only difference being that it’s just SO FAR away.
Two of the friends I caught up with have moved back to the UK now, and one has moved on to Melbourne, yet I still feel it’s one of those places I’ll go back to. I’ve been told I need to visit Melbourne next, but I’ll want to go back to Brisbane, travel up the sunshine coast and then on to see the Great Barrier Reef…
I only got nine days in this country/island/continent, and it definitely wasn’t enough, even if I did get some fantastic photographs, just like this one.
Cheat Days, Stinger Suits and the Most Beautiful Beach on Planet Earth
I could have done with a few extra days in Brisbane with Sue, catching up on old times, but I’d embarked upon a crazy whistle stop, global tour and my time was limited.
Sue’s husband, Philip dropped me off at the airport on his way to work, and I picked up my next Western Union money transfer, which would have to last me ten days until I arrived in San Francisco. Bearing in mind how useless I am with money, this was to be a real challenge.
The main thing I’d come to learn since landing in Australia, was just how utterly massive it was. The globe can be quite deceptive. Approximately two thirds of it’s land mass lies in the Northern Hemisphere. Australia is right at the bottom of the Southern Hemisphere, surrounded by a huge expanse of ocean, which can make it appear deceptively smaller, and far away from anything else. The reality is that the UK would fit into the state of Queensland SEVEN TIMES!
In actual fact, this giant continental land mass (yes I paid attention in my geography lessons) is about the size of Western Europe, and it takes around 6 hours to fly between it’s East and West coasts. This is around the same amount of time that it took me to fly between London and Dubai!
My short flight between Brisbane and Hamilton Island was rather pleasant, aside from the baby in the next seat who decided to fill her nappy just as I was handed my coffee.
I’d been speaking to a UK based tour operator about getting up to Airlie Beach, and she’d advised me that the best way was a sleeper train that took fourteen hours and would cost me £530. I panicked and quickly looked on the Skyscanner website (which I used to cross reference prices for all of my flights during this trip) and found one for £34 with Virgin Australia. The lesson there being that it’s sometimes better to do it yourself.
After landing at Hamilton Island, I had to book myself onto a ferry to take me over to the main land. I’d researched this before leaving London, but I was still a little nervous that I was going to get stranded somewhere, even though there were far worse places I could be left stranded.
I’d heard that Australia was quite expensive, but I wasn’t quite prepared for how much it was going to cost me to get across to Airlie Beach. The ticket with Cruise Whitsundays was $50 (approx £27) EACH WAY. There was no return ticket available, so I sucked it up and made the most of it, enjoying the view as we sailed through the islands.
There were taxis waiting to take everyone to their respective hotels, apartments and hostels, but I decided to lug my backpack along the bicentennial walkway in 32 degree heat on foot.
I had to stop off and ask for directions a couple of times, and everyone presumed I was staying in a hostel. At my age I honestly couldn’t think of anything worse, and judging from one of the vans I saw parked outside one of the local hostels, I probably made the right decision.
I was staying at the Blue Horizon Apartments, which turned out to be a good 30 minute walk from the marina. This was the most expensive accommodation I had booked, and I was yet to pay for it. It was just what I needed, my own apartment with a kitchen (complete with washing machine and tumble dryer), bathroom, balcony and a sea view too – I loved it!
http://www.bluehorizonairlie.com.au
I went out to explore Airlie Beach. It didn’t take me very long as there’s one main street which leads to the bicentennial walkway and along to the marina. The town is full of hostels and is considered a ‘backpacker’s paradise’. I may have had a backpack, but I certainly wasn’t a ‘backpacker’.
I felt like I’d arrived in Airlie Beach about ten years too late, exactly as I’d felt at the Full Moon Party in Haad Rin. I had no desire to go into any of the bars offering me free shots of sickly green gunk.
Another issue I had was the lack of free WiFi in Australia. My apartment charged for WiFi use so I ended up in a godforsaken Internet cafe, thus confirming that I DEFINITELY should have arrived ten years earlier!
Going back to my apartment and watching the sunset from the balcony wasn’t so bad. I wanted to go for a run the following morning, so I decided to have an early night.
As I had in Thailand, I ran every morning in Airlie Beach. I had to get up even earlier to avoid the high temperatures. I think the earliest I went out was 6:40am (seriously) and bizarrely, despite the high population of drunk backpackers in the resort, I wasn’t the only person out for a run at that time. Unlike in Thailand, where my morning runs were greeted by looks of bemusement on the faces of locals, I was in good company in Australia. I wasn’t, however, at all prepared for the amount of squashed frogs I’d encounter along the route every morning (yuck!)
I made good use of the pool in the complex too, even if I did have to share it with several children and their giant, inflatable Australian flag flip flop.
There was one supermarket in Airlie Beach. It was fairly expensive but sold lots of fresh produce, so, as I had my own kitchen, I tried to stay healthy and make salads for lunch and peanut butter and banana on rye toast after my morning run. I was doing okay until I worked out that the local ice cream parlour was the only place in town that had free WiFi. I’d wondered why it was so popular.
I started out with good intentions, buying fresh fruit smoothies, but then my desire for the ice cream surfaced and I lost it. It also turned out that the WiFi signal reached over to the neighbouring McDonalds who sold cheap muffins and coffee, so I was stopping off to log in twice a day. Ever noticed how buying cheap, junky, sugar and salt laden foods seems much cheaper than buying fresh, nutrient dense foods? Frustrating isn’t it? I haven’t done the research on this, but many have and I think most have concluded that it’s not actually more expensive to eat healthily, and it was probably my inner ‘sugar monster’ desperately trying to break free again, but still, the free WiFi kept me going back.
It’s ridiculous when you think about it. In hot climates, we should eat foods that cool us down. Yes there’s a reason we eat salads in Summer! I’m always baffled by Brits who holiday in 30 degree heat and ask for a full English breakfast. I’ll admit, I’ve done it many times myself in the past, but now see that it makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. On one day during my stay at Airlie Beach, the temperature reached 36 degrees. I probably still had a coffee that afternoon.
On my way back to the apartment one evening I was heavily debating buying a cookie from Subway (turns out there’s lots of fast food places in Airlie Beach!) and I told the young guy behind the counter of my dilemma. He looked at me sympathetically (or perhaps it was a look of pity) and said “Everyone deserves a cheat day…”
I didn’t have the guts (no pun intended) to tell him that I was already on my third!
Here’s the thing – we’re all allowed treats, it would be far too restrictive not to allow them, but the problems start when the ‘treats’ begin to take up over half of what you’re eating each day. I’m talking sugar and salt overload and barely any nutrients. On days like this, I feel very sluggish and have little or no enthusiasm for anything. Why would I choose to make myself feel like that? It counts as self sabotage, surely?
I weighed myself at the local chemist, as I had done in Thailand, and I was exactly the same as I was the day I’d left London, which was a relief, but I still needed to keep myself in check.
For my final, full day in the Whitsundays, I’d booked myself a trip to the infamous Whitehaven Beach on Whitsunday Island. I’d spent years looking at friends photos of this beautiful place as they’d each in turn travelled around Australia.
As I arrived at the marina I went to buy some water from the little cafe and was greeted by a lady behind the counter with a Mancunian accent. It then transpired that the woman who took us down to board the boat was from Nottingham. These were not twenty something backpackers either, they were both in their 50s, had emigrated twenty years ago and each raved on about how much more relaxed they felt since doing so. Another point to note: There are MANY English ex pats in Australia.
The sand found on Whitehaven Beach is 98% silica which is responsible for it’s bright white colour. Unlike usual sand, this doesn’t retain heat, so I was able to walk barefoot along it without burning my feet. In order to go in the water, I was advised I’d have to wear a ‘stinger suit’ due to the risk of being stung by a jellyfish. I was having none of it and went in up to my ankles only!
This was one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen and I tried to ignore the soundtrack of creatures rustling in the nearby bush. My feet were to stay firmly planted on the beach.
I cannot express in words how hot I was feeling when this photograph was taken. I’d applied SPF 30 about four times but stupidly refused to wear a hat. Later that evening, I found bits of my scalp coming off in my hairbrush – not pleasant! You know that hole in the ozone layer that everyone talks about? Well it does exist, and it’s right over Australia, so if you ever go – wear a hat! I learned that the hard way, inspecting my hairbrush that night.
I was due to fly to Sydney the following morning, and it would be a little bit cooler. I tried on the jeans I’d flown out to Dubai in a fortnight earlier. They still fit and I was most relieved, but I still felt guilty for eating that sodding cookie!
Welcome to Straya, Mate: Yorkshire Tea in the Southern Hemisphere
I’d set my alarm for 4:30am on the Sunday morning, as my flight to Brisbane was due to leave just after 9am. I’d asked a few cab drivers how much it would be to get out to KLIA (Kuala Lumpur’s main international airport) and had made sure I’d saved enough cash to get me there (plus a little for breakfast) as I was paranoid that I was going to get stuck without access to cash after losing my bank card. This would all change once I got to Brisbane and visited my bank.
The drive out to the airport was pretty lengthy and I had a good chat with the taxi driver, mainly just to keep me awake. English is the official second language in Malaysia and is taught from the age of seven, which is handy really, considering my linguistic skills stretch as far as ordering a coffee in French, asking the way to the toilet in Spanish and describing my dog in German.
After securely fastening up my backpack straps and checking it in, I found myself some peanut butter on toast and a cappuccino. The airport was full of Americans and Australians and there was a branch of Harrods in the terminal too, which made up for the lack of Starbucks. Not that I had any money to spend in Harrods…
I was flying to Brisbane with Malaysia Airlines and I was to be on the plane for around 8 hours. It was my first long haul flight since I arrived in Bangkok, so I was hoping I got to sit next to someone inoffensive enough…
Sadly, five minutes after boarding, I realised it wasn’t meant to be. The guy next to me was constantly shaking his right leg which was really irritating and there was a screaming toddler sitting with her Mother in the seat in front of me – sigh.
On a more positive note, each seat had it’s own USB port, so I was able to charge my phone during the flight.
I watched three films during the 8 hours:
Runner Runner – a pretty terrible crime thriller starring Justin Timberlake, Gemma Arterton and Ben Affleck.
Enough Said – an average rom com starring Julia Louis Dreyfus and James Gandolfini.
The Butler – a fantastic film (based on a true story) starring Forest Whitaker and Oprah Winfrey.
The films were all pretty recent, all having being released in 2013, which was quite impressive, and they helped to distract me from the shaking leg and screaming baby which was good. Sadly, no hot drinks were being served due to turbulence, so I was without coffee for the whole 8 hours, which I found more traumatic than the actual turbulence. I really need to cut down on my caffeine intake. One coffee a day is good for revving up the metabolism, but I’m pretty sure that 4 or 5 has an adverse effect on the nervous system.
A few hours into the flight, at the grand old age of 34, I finally crossed the equator and entered the Southern Hemisphere (albeit at 33,000 feet.)
Then a couple more hours (and a glass of wine) later, I landed in Brisbane. The guy shaking his leg seemed even more irritating after half a bottle of white wine, and I amused myself by doing impressions of him WHILE SITTING NEXT TO HIM!
As we came in to land, I could see the pretty Brisbane skyline lit up in different colours.
Photo Credit http://wellisphotography.photoshelter.com
I couldn’t wait to get off the plane. After collecting my backpack and heading to passport control, I switched my phone on and a text from my friend, Sue, who I was staying with, popped up.
This put a huge smile on my face. I hadn’t seen Sue in the flesh since the millennium. We used to work together in Leeds in the evenings when I was a student and had reconnected (as so many people have done) through Facebook. Shortly after we got back in touch, she, along with her husband and two children, emigrated to Australia. I’d enjoyed seeing pictures from their new life down under on Facebook, as well as reading about the move retrospectively in Sue’s blog, which you can read here: http://dougdownunder.wordpress.com/
The beauty of social networking sites is that you can go years without seeing someone and still know what they look like as well as knowing pretty much everything they’ve been doing over the years; so when I was met by Sue, her husband, Philip and daughter Alex, I felt like I already knew a lot about how their life had changed since they emigrated almost five years ago.
Despite my jet lag and lack of caffeine, I was full of questions during the drive to Bribie Island where they live, not to mention completely in awe of how gigantic the moon looked.
Upon arrival at their fabulous home, I was handed a cup of Yorkshire Tea in a Leeds United mug. I’d travelled over 10,000 miles and felt like I’d just arrived home – it was lovely.
I was given some Greek salad, which was exactly what I needed after two days worth of sugar laden crap in Kuala Lumpur; and for the first time throughout the whole trip (wine/gin and tonic at 33,000 feet doesn’t count!) I had alcohol. An unusual sparkling red, which you can only get in Australia, sadly.
After a spot of ‘wine tasting’ I was led out in the garden to do a bit of star gazing. From their garden I could see the Southern Cross, which is only visible in the Southern Hemisphere, Orion’s Belt and the Milky Way. This was a real treat, as due to the light pollution in London, I struggle to see anything other than the moon, Venus and a few low flying aeroplanes on some nights.
After catching up on old friends and ex work colleagues back in Leeds and skyping my Dad to tell him I’d arrived in Australia safely, we turned in around midnight. I only had one full day in Brisbane and wanted to pack as much in as possible, as well as visiting the bank to sort out my cash problem.
After a wonderful sleep in the most sumptuous garage I’ve ever slept in (bigger and better than my own bedroom) I got ready and had porridge with honey and fresh fruit in the garden. Then we took Dougie the dog down to Bribie Island dog beach. As far as Monday mornings went, this was one of the best ever.
I was then taken on a tour of the island…
In the distance you can see the Glasshouse Mountains. Here’s a closer look.
Later that morning we went into Brisbane. It was HOT! I’d applied plenty of sun cream before leaving the house, and a good thing too, as this was the strongest heat I’d ever experienced. Brisbane’s quite a drive from Bribie, and we were listening to Alex’s playlists in the car, which ended up spawning my ‘Australia song’.
Yes, I know that Tom Cochrane is Canadian, and yes, I realise the song is 23 years old, but it will now always remind me of driving along and looking out for kangaroos…
I won’t go into great detail about my visit to the bank. I’ll go as far as to say after dealing with a very unhelpful “computer says no” clerk, I was rescued by one of the managers and put through to the UK on their 24 hour business line. I was allowed to access a limited amount of my own cash, but not enough to get me through the next 5 days, and would need to call the UK again later to arrange yet another Western Union money transfer.
Banking business aside, we had a lovely lunch at an Italian restaurant. I had gnocchi and pesto (plus a few sly Haribo bears from the bowl by the till – oops!)
Here I am looking like a gatecrasher in a family photograph…
…and here I am looking like, well, I don’t quite know what.
Upon our return to the house, we went out kangaroo spotting on the bikes with Dougie the dog. I hadn’t been on a (non stationary) bike in about twenty years and was very wobbly at first and really slow once I got going. After riding out into the bush, I got to see five kangaroos.
I managed to get a very grainy shot of one before Dougie chased him/her off.
We were out in the bush just over an hour and managed to see five kangaroos. I think I loved it more than Dougie did.
Then I had the joyous task of contacting the bank again to arrange a money transfer. This time my conversations alternated between a woman in Newcastle upon Tyne and her colleague in Mumbai. It took a while to get everything organised, but I was promised that my funds would be available to pick up at Brisbane airport in the morning.
After more of the fabulous fizzy red wine (trust me on this one) I went to bed. I had another early flight in the morning, and another five days on my own. I wish I could have stayed in Brisbane longer, but I was flying up to the Whitsundays the following morning. I had such a good time and it was lovely to see my friend in her new (ish) surroundings.
Emigrating is a huge step to take. I travelled for only four weeks and there were times when I felt completely isolated. On the other hand, there were times, like my two days in Brisbane, when I felt more at home than I did anywhere else. I can’t begin to imagine how moving to the other side of the planet would feel, so I take my hat off to Sue for being so brave, and also for being so hospitable during my time there. I really enjoyed Brisbane, and will no longer refer to it as ‘Bris Vegas’.
Lean & Serene 