Iced Tea in St. Kilda

It has been a scorcher here in central Melbourne for the past couple of days, and to take advantage of the sun at a proper place, Steve and I headed to the beach!  After a day+ of trekking around the city hitting up parks, rooftop bars, and other people-watching locales (I’ll not overfeed our dear readers and provide too much “first we did this, then we did this” vignettes), we hopped on bikes to head to the water in the area of St. Kilda where big trees, scantily-clad Aussies, and an amusement park hugs the seaside. 

We abandoned our bikes in the CBD (central business district) due to 35ish C/85ish F weather and a lot of bitching and moaning from yours truly who enjoys a casual bike ride as long as the seat is comfy as a Caddy.  These bikes, though free and graciously offered to us by our Airbnb hosts, were road bikes, and too uncomfy for me to be an enjoyable companion for the day…much to Steve’s chagrin. 

It proved a wise choice, as we were able to stretch our Melbourne Tram knowledge and enjoy a lovely mile+ walk along the river to catch the right Tram to take us to the water. 

St. Kilda, upon first entry, is an awful lot like Coney Island when approaching via the Tram (Steve experienced this subway ride often when he lived in Brooklyn by falling asleep on the train several times and ending up in Coney Island at the end of the line).  One is greeted with residential neighborhoods that give way to some dodgy pubs, offers of pole dancing exercise classes, and then a token amusement park called “Luna Park.”  The screams and number of teenage summer bums whirling around upside down in the heat were enough to turn our 30-something stomachs, so this park experience did not even come close to making it onto our agenda for the day. 

The beach itself rests on the bay, not the ocean, so the water, I imagine (I now realize that I didn’t even touch my toe into it - oops), is quite warm and calm.  We found a patch of grass to picnic on and work on our freckles before realizing we were the palest Canucks on the beach and should probably retire to the shade.

We wandered down Alcane Street, ogling tanned hipster passers-by and window shopping, before realizing that one side of the street in particular houses all of the cafes and restaurants, while the other is mainly shopping (in hind sight, we realized many streets in Melbourne are like this – good on you, Melbourne).  This allows for the afternoon sun to be shielded by the lines of café umbrellas, under which we happily jumped on a table when one opened up.  Cakes and tiny goodies are a fad here, so after our iced drinks, some reading, and journaling, we invested in a “nut bar” to maintain our good relations with the café workers and justify our sitting in their shade for one more hour.  A small price to pay…

Incidentally, I’ve run into a funny phenomenon which I can only imagine will continue throughout our journeys.  I tend to crave iced beverages the moment the weather goes above “sweater” season.  Perhaps it’s due to the iced tea that had sat in every fridge of my life from May to September (thanks, Mom and Bubs), or maybe it’s as a result of what an acupuncturist told me the one time I succumbed to the needle-based torture that I am, by nature, very hot-blooded.  Contrary to the acupunturist’s suggestion of soaking my feet in cold water before going to bed (um…no thanks), I crave iced tea to the degree that Batman is engaged the moment his light hits the sky (silly reference, I know, but there’s a Batman Avenue in downtown Melbourne, and for some reason, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head).  The iced beverages in Melbourne, however, are of a different variety.  Steve asked for an iced latte or coffee or something the other day and ended up with a glob of iced cream in espresso.  I asked for an iced chai at our little St. Kilda café and received a puzzled look before suggesting the barista make a hot cup of chai and dump it over ice.  Readers, you may be thinking, “Sarah, get over yourself and drop your silly habit,” but people, I’m telling you – this craving is for real and I gotta figure out how not only to ask where the bathroom is in several different languages, but how to get an iced beverage to quench my Batman thirst!  (Steve would role his eyes at this knowing I’ll survive this quirky need, but damn…you can take the girl out of humid New England summers, but you can’t take the summers out of….you know.)

I have digressed - I apologize.  St. Kilda was a blast of breeze and sun on a hot day, and the day ended in a lovely Tram and bike ride home for several applications of after sun cream to tame our northern hemisphere skin.  An absolute recommendation if you ever make it to Melbourne in the “summah” time just make sure to ask for the hot tea dumped over ice and a nut bar.  You won’t be disappointed. 

P.S.  Geraldine – the yoga mat’s still with me, and I’ve been engaging in some Bikram-like sessions every morning since our arrival.  Gotta strengthen up my legs in order to carry the packs!  

Adventures Down Under

After 24 hours on planes, endless movies, 2 books, some late night noodles in Hong Kong, and the trial run of the neck pillow/eye mask motif, it was an absolute pleasure to see Joel, smiling with a new Aussie summertime tan at the gate in Melbourne. He whisked us off in the car through the golden rolling hills, scattered eucalyptus trees, and wildlife that surrounds Melbourne to arrive at his mom and step-father’s  place outside of town. Ray and Ruth pulled out the stops, welcoming us with scones, jam, and a much needed kick of caffeine so we could make it through the afternoon and evening before finally crashing. 

We’ve spent a bit of time exploring Ray and Ruth’s beautiful property and the surrounding area – we thought we’d share some of the images.

The view of the back acres of the property. We saw a few kangaroos hanging out in the shade of the trees in the long dry grass.

Ruth and Ray have put an extraordinary amount of effort into the property over the last 12 years and have created a picturesque ranch style home surrounded by blooming gardens and vibrantly coloured trees.

There are no native cats in Australia, which has led to a huge number of colourful native birds. These are a pair of Galah Parrots that hung around the property and squawked at us from time to time. A side note – galah is also an Aussie slang term that means a goofy person who laughs a lot. We ended up running into lots of wildlife in a short span.

Including the chickens (or chooks as the Aussies call them).

Sulphur-crested cockatoo.

And the king of the parrots we saw – the Crimson Rosella. Red breasted, deep blue wings, with orange piping across the black of its back.

There were also strikingly colored magpies.

Mr. Humbug, the resident cat.

Down the road a bit, there is an alpaca farm! They were freshly shorn and so perhaps a little embarrassed to have their picture taken.

And last but not least – kangaroos! Apparently a group of kangaroos (or roos as the Aussies call them) are called a mob of roos, which seems pretty fitting. There was a group of about ten on the back of the property one night. They are absolutely massive, the largest standing nearly as tall as a person, and two of them even had a little boxing match. As you can see, they cover a lot of ground with each stride.

Sarah and I took a long walk around the “block,” which turned out to be a lovely 6km (3.5 miles for the Statesiders out there) walk into the rolling hills to see some of the other local properties.

The deep green of the trees and fields of golden grass, smell of eucalyptus and dry grass, and even the feel of the heat, brought me right back to summers in California, spending long days wandering through the open spaces on my bike. Amazing to find the same feel all the way across the world and to see the differences as well.

And then of course there’s been the wonderful time spent with Tanja, Joel, Ruth, Ray, and Otto! The little man now has three words – mama, dada, and otto – the third of which he uses liberally and loudly. Love the teeth. 

We feel so lucky to have been able to start this journey here with Joel’s lovely family, in the company of good friends who have let us get our feet under us, taught us a few Aussie words, and showed us how they do things Down Under.

Next stop, downtown Melbourne!

Pulling it off

Here we are, both of us filled with nerves, having just had a lovely send-off of a day starting with a new years' brunch with dear Vancouver friends (yay Shaye, Jan, Alina, Amanda, Drew, and Eric), a calming tea with some more friends (yay Rob and Gloria), who incedentally took the keys to our car to babysit it for 5 months, and then a wonderful evening with our Vancouver family (sigh...Mom, Pete, Bubs, and Soph). Our bags are packed, clothes and contact lenses have been divided between the two bags in case one bag decides to stay behind, Steve has already practiced wearing the money/passport belt (which Bubs claims looks something like a beer belly), I'm dreading my final sleep with Helphy for a long time (for those unfamiliar with Helphy, she's my 29-year old stuffed animal who is staying behind in Vancouver), our quick-wicking plane clothing is sitting out for the morn, and now Steve's lying in bed trying to read himself into a deep sleep (of which he has been relatively unsuccessful as of late...you all remember that 3:45am blog last week, right?). Me? I'm just waiting for the sleeping pills to kick in and sure-as-hell hope for one final 8-hours before we take flight.

Our amazing send off from friends.

I'm feeling a bit numb at the moment, not yet filled with excitement, but instead finding some sort of a balance between utter fear of the unknown, complete disbelief that we've pulled this off, and chill acceptance of this MAJOR adventure we're about to embark on. I've packed plenty-a-suitcases in my day, but none have ever included such varied supplies - malaria pills, stuff sacks, 5 months worth of biodegradable laundry detergent, enzymes, etc. Admittedly, had I looked at the length of our (**now conmpletely crossed off**) to-do list 5 years ago when we "committed" to making this happen, I may have shrugged my shoulders and thought, "yeah right, like we could actually pull it off." But, by George, I think we've done it. As of 11:15am tomorrow morning, if you need us, we'll be at one international airport or another and every highway, backpackers route, or elephant ride in between.

With Mom and Bubbe and aaaaallll of our stuff...

Signing off for now at T minus 13.5 hours, from the quiet and familiarity of home, while on the brink of the unknown,

Happy 2011, all. So far so good.
Sarah

Panic Attack Number 1

Greetings from California, stop number one on the long journey of Steve and Sarah (and in this case Sophie). We've spent a wonderful holiday period with the fam and friends, both in Concord and in Napa, enjoying big meals, some fantastic wine, and our first experience of living out of the suitcase. 

However, you might ask, Steve, if you are having such a wonderful time, why are you up writing a blog post at 3:45am? Oh, I will tell you - I had my first panicked travel dream. To put this dream in context, I first have to explain that most of the dreams I remember are pretty exciting - car chases, secret agents, that sort of thing. These are fun dreams, where I know things will work out and I'm just along for the ride. 

Then, there are the panic dreams, which oddly enough, are the most mundane dreams I have. For instance tonight, I dreamt that it was late on the night before we were leaving for Australia and a bunch of people were over at the house, including Brianna, a friend from high school and her boyfriend who was making soup for us for the journey. I was desperately trying to make sure my pack was ready and that I'd have room for a big container of soup of all things but all anyone could talk about was the fact that Brianna's boyfriend's soup needed more veggies. So sure enough, I ended up on the road in the middle of the night, hours before departure, seeking a grocery store that would have garlic, tomatoes and lentils at 1am. The items left undone on the todo list were running through my head, mixed up with the ingredient list for the soup, and as the rain crashed down on the windshield I craned my neck to see if some Safeway would appear. I woke up in a cold sweat. And now I'm writing about it in hopes that others have had similar experiences with travel and might find some humor in the whole thing.

I imagine stress dreams are part of most travelers' experiences at some point in time or another, and while I hope this is not a common occurrence, after the busyness of the holidays it's not so bad to sit, sipping apple cider in the silent house while everyone is sleeping around me. 

By the way, the picture at the top of the post is of a waterfall that is a short walk up the road from my dad's place in Napa. A beautiful little calm spot. Back to bed for me, hopefully to find secret agent dreams and no more soup disasters. Happy holidays everyone.

One, Two, Three...JUMP!

We usually don't get to philosophical on this blog, but I hope on the eve of the journey you'll forgive a little verbal wandering. A screw up with the flights has Sarah departing with Zephyr in 7 hours (ug 6am flights) and me following a little while later with Flora. Crazy upheavel on the last night but I suppose that's how it goes. In the end the few hours till liftoff were chopped in half and now we're standing on the brink, which has me thinking of a few moments from the past.

I transferred to Wesleyan when I was a junior, and at age 20 made my way across the country in an old Volvo with two old friends to live on the East Coast for the first time. I expected to find red and gold trees, harbors, and ivy, and while I found the brick and the professors, I also found out the trees didn't turn colors till the fall and what you got instead at the end of the summer was hot, sticky humidity. The inside of my miniture brick-sided room heated up during the day to the point where I realizing sitting outside in the beating sun was cooler. But what you also have in New England is ponds. On the west coast, ponds are little mudholes that form in the hills when it rains and dry up soon after, but on the East Coast, they are entirely different creatures. They are small lakes, hidden in thick forests, bordered with beaten down granite cliffs. And they are also how college students coming back to campus escape the heat.

 I went to Miller's Pond for the first time in the middle of the night, when the heat had abated just enough for the breeze through the car window to be pleasent. We walked the half mile from the parking lot by the light of the moon through the trees and finally crept forward with our toes onto the edge of the cliff. It was impossible to see the water below us in the dark expanse, much less to know if the landing was clear to jump. I felt fear in my chest and thought about backing out, but the others around me (Pete H included) assured me it was alright, and in the end I leap out into the night. For an instant it felt like I wasn't falling at all, like there was nothing to hit, but then I splashed into the freezing water, heart pounding and cool for the first time in days.

It feels a ltitle like that now, standing on the edge of a journey where we have no idea what lies on the other side but knowing that if we take that leap we'll land somewhere amazing. It's frightening to be sure, but also envigorating. 

I've posted a few shots of the very clean and empty house to ground us during our travels, to remind us of the home we've left and have to look forward to on our return in June. 

Good night everyone, the 3am alarm is rapidly approaching, as is a very big day.

Malaria pills...check. Camera...check. Cat...cat?!?

A big welcome to those of you who are now receiving our updates via email and to all our patient readers who have been checking the blog on the web and waiting for us to stop talking about it and finally hit the road. The long wait is nearly over. After bittersweet goodbyes at our respective offices (Hey Arts Umbrella and BCCEWH folk!), Sarah and I have spent the weekend finalizing the lists, packing the house, and doing the first pack of the backpacks. And in less than four days, we'll be out of the house and living in our backpacks 'til June.

Here's a few shots of the fun mixed in with some thoughts about how we'll do the blog.

 Sarah, Zephyr, and the empty packs. They are so light all by themselves. Sigh.

There are lots of types of travel blogs. They run the gambit of styles, but tend to either be of the tedious-details ilk ("I just changed my socks!") or the infrequent but deeply reflective type ("I totally just reached a new plane of consciousness, man...."). We're going to try to shoot the gap between these two styles.

I won't bore you with the complete list of what goes into these bags, but here's a few highlights - malaria pills, universal adapter, sleeping bag liners (for those "budget" accommodations), and a sterilized needle pack. Zephyr is making a concerted bid to be included in the packing list.

So, by shooting the gap I mean we will do our best to not bore you with mundane details, but we'll also try to provide enough interesting details with enough frequency that you have somewhat of a feeling of climbing into our packs with Zephyr and coming along.

We'll see how far that yoga mat makes it...

The general idea is that every three days or so, we're going to pick the one event, experience, person, etc. that we found the most fascinating and we'll write a post about that. Pictures and potentially even videos will be included so you don't get dreadfully bored just listening to us jabber on.

The packs have been packed, and remarkably, are not back-breaking to wear. We'll see what happens after hiking a few miles though...

So that's the full scoop on the blog and our packing process. If we can't take you all along with us, we'll at least try to keep you in the loop.

Less than 4 days till liftoff!

To Map or to .map?

Well, our to-do list is to-doing itself these days with many to-dos crossed off every to-day. From the pick up of hypodermic needles at travel clinics to looking like goofs in MEC as we handle each pair of socks to see which ones are the lightest, every day, we're getting closer and closer to take off. As of next Thursday (eek!) we'll be out of our house, so our to-do focus has shifted to packing up the abode in anticipation of hitting the road.

With that packing in mind, allow me a moment to tell a little anecdote. I'm an atlas kinda gal. Sure maps.google.com can show you what your house looks like in every season, but I've always been a fan of picking up the heaviest book on the shelf and browsing. I attempted to do this this morning since I had a conversation with a dental hygenist yesterday who stumped me with her home country's location, alas, our atlas has been packed! Gosh darn us who are so damn on top of packing up! Google maps solved my problem (Sri Lanka is off the southern tip of India, folks), but I sure do wish I had the strength and space to bring an actual atlas with me instead of those nifty PDFs we've downloaded onto our ubersmall laptop. Or maybe we could just pack up this little girl and tote her along with us...