sandybarker

Hawaii H2O

May 23, 2009May 23, 2009sandybarker

Every day we were in Hawaii we were either in the water or out on it, sailing, snorkeling, paddling and swimming. Ben even tried surfing, and we both had a bash at paddleboarding.

Some of the highlights:

Sunset Cruise (Maui). Our first night on Maui we got on a sunset cruise, which was romantic and fun, and reminded us exactly why we love Maui so much.

We got our sea legs pretty quickly.

The views of the coastline were beautiful, but it was this that blew us away at the end of the evening:

We enjoyed our ‘champagne’ out of plastic cups, and dancing to old tunes (no easy task on a rocking yacht), but mostly were both we thrilled to be back out on the water. Our holiday began with a bang.

Beach bumming (Maui and Kaua’i). We didn’t spend too much time just laying on the beach with the occasional dip in the sea. We spent just enough. We got our Vitamin D, we chilled out, and we got a little tanned.

We even brought our ‘boys’ down so they could get the sun they’d been missing in Seattle.

(Yes, I know they aren’t real, but don’t tell Ben.)

On Kaua’i we got secret directions to Secret Beach. It took us a couple of U-turns, but we found it. When we arrived, we were the only ones there.

The view back along the coast was incredible.

And Ben is becoming quite the body surfer.

The water is an incredible color! We did read later, much like the information we discovered after our hike in Waimea Canyon, that the rips off the coast of Kaua’i have been responsible for a few casualties. There was one moment when I looked up from my book, and couldn’t see Ben in the surf. My heart leapt into my throat, mostly because we were alone, and I would not be able to rescue him without drowning myself, but he waved and called out from further down the beach.

Snorkeling Molokini Atoll (Maui). This trip took most of the day, and began by sailing out to the atoll on a double hulled catamaran.

Once there, we geared up, and got to the business of snorkeling one of the clearest and best snorkeling spots in the world.

Ben took some terrific underwater shots:

Our next stop was ‘Turtle Town’, where we swam with the sea turtles. At first I was doubtful we would see any, but I spotted the first one, followed it with Ben until we found a much bigger one, then we followed that one. I saw 4 turtles, and one of them was only a few feet from me. Ben has some terrific shots on his Flickr page of our last jaunt with the sea turtles (April 2007), so check them out.

I love sea turtles. They have such grace, and seem so wise (perhaps because some of them are over 100 years old). The native Hawaiians believe they are spiritual guides. I know that I feel a special kind of peace when I swim with them.

Kayaking Waimea River to a waterfall. This was a terrific afternoon on Kaua’i where we paddled up river about 2 and a half miles,

tied up our kayaks,

hiked another mile into the rain forest to the waterfall,

and then swam in it.

Our guide was a Hawaiian native who happily works for the family-run business. Terada knows her stuff, and loves her homeland. She tackled the hike (through mud, streams and over rocks) bare-footed. And she filled the hike with lots of interesting information about the terrain.

We hiked out on a different path, where we saw this waterfall.

We loved the whole thing; it was a terrific excursion.

Sailing up the Napoli Coast (Kaua’i). We took a sunset cruise off the coast of Kaua’i that took us up to the Napoli Coast (accessible only by boat or by foot).

The coastline is THE most beautiful I have ever seen. Our skipper took his time, and pointed out landmarks along the way. I think its beauty speaks for itself.

And yes, the water really was this brilliant aqua color. We could 80 feet to the ocean floor, and watched sea turtles swimming between the boat and the shore.

Ben wants to hike to this cave and camp here on our next trip to Kaua’i. I’d be up for that.

After we turned back, and the sun started to set, our skipper saw some spinner dolphins leaping out of the water not too far off our bow. He made his way over there, and Ben got some terrific footage as they swam off the wake of the bow.

I felt like a little kid. I couldn’t stop smiling.

Boarding (Surfing on Maui and Paddleboarding on Kaua’i). Ben had a go at long board surfing on Maui. He took a lesson with two other guys, and while they practiced their moves on land, they looked a little like the ‘Surfettes’.

He stood his first go, and continued to ride the waves. Not bad for a guy who grew up landlocked!

Paddleboarding was a whole new sport. You stand on a specially designed long board and paddle. You can catch waves, but must change to the surfer stance, and it takes a lot of practice. Ben had a lesson, and the next day taught me. On my birthday we spent a couple of hours paddling around Kalapaki Bay.

Lounging at the pool. We spent little time at the Marriott resort pool, but we made a point to swim, spa and sun ourselves. Wouldn’t you?

Hawaii was a brilliant time. We squeezed every moment out of our time there. And it is always a pleasure to travel with my best friend.

Hawaii: The high life

May 22, 2009May 23, 2009sandybarker

Let me set the scene: 8 days in Hawaii, 4 on Maui, 4 on Kaua’i. We mixed it up: relaxation and adventure. We saw new sights and revisited a couple of favorites.

We spent a lot of time up high.

Ziplining (Maui). This is a relatively new past time, where you hook onto a steel cable, launch from a platform, and ‘zip’ over a canyon to a landing platform on the other side.

We had two guides for the excursion, Junior and John, who were a well-practiced comedy duo, and handled our diverse group with deft hands. The first one to launch off the first perch was a little, round woman who was visibly terrified. John talked her through it, and then the rest of us lined up, one by one, and crossed the canyon.

I was nicknamed ‘Giggles’, because I laughed every time I crossed. It was just exhilarating. We did 8 crossings, ranging from 350 feet to 1100 feet. The trick on landing was to get feet on the platform and run out the momentum.

The views were incredible.

The lookout where we had morning tea revealed the next valley over. Spectacular views, but I doubt I would have ziplined across something so deep.

Hiking the North Maui coastline. Not only was some of the hike precarious (sheer cliffs – I took the ‘long way’ a couple of times), the road to get there was too. For about 20 miles, the road is a single lane winding along the coast. There were a few times where we had to hug the edge to let another car pass. The ‘pay off’ was mind-blowing landscapes and cultural phenomena.

Our guidebook mentioned that there is a spot on the North Maui coastal drive where travelers have left hundreds of stone piles. The guidebook also says that these piles of rocks have no cultural significance. This may be true of the ancient Hawaiians, but for the travelers who make it here and leave their own ‘mark’ on the landscape, the sculptures have taken their own significance. It is like ecologically friendly graffiti.

The day before we did the hike, we drove past on our way to the beach. I was intrigued.

The next day we left ours atop a cliff.

The rest of the hike revealed a landscape so unusual, that we felt like we were on set of a Sci-Fi movie.

The rest of this hike will be featured in the next post: we were on a quest to find two blow holes, the second of which sometimes blows water 100 feet in the air.

NouNou Mountain Hike (Kaua’i). Our first day on Kaua’i we followed our noses to NouNou Mountain, where we could trek up high and get a lay of the land.

The trail was deemed a ‘moderate’ hike, and for two reasonably fit people, we certainly worked hard for the 45 minutes it took us to climb the trail. The terrain was rugged, so challenging, and there were a few shortcuts that were little more than tree root ladders.

We stopped to admire the view. The day was heating up, and we were working hard.

We pushed on to the top, not really knowing how much further it was.

The view of the coastline, towns and farms was spectacular.

Not much further we got to the apex of the mountain, with views back to the rest of the mountain range. We turned around and headed back to the car, satisfied that the hike would ‘count’ as our exercise for the day.

The most unusual aspect of the hike was the soundtrack: roosters crowing and cows mooing. Cows, understandably, because dairy farms fill the valley. The roosters and chickens are harder to wrap my mind around, because on both Maui and Kaua’i the chickens are wild. Yes, wild.

No matter where you are, on a kayak paddling down a river, in your room at the resort, on a sunset cruise, roosters all over the island(s) are staking their claim with cries of ‘Cock a Doodle Doo’ – morning, noon and night. We even noticed the following headline on the front page of the local paper on Kaua’i: What’s Up With the Chickens? Indeed! If you want to know the full story, read this article from Go Visit Kaua’i.

Waimea Canyon (Kaua’i). This is called the Grand Canyon of Hawaii. Some of the canyon is lush and green, and other parts are more like the actual Grand Canyon. We spent a morning driving up onto the rim of the canyon, stopping at various view points.

Hazy mist burning off in the morning sun

And at one lookout I noticed this sign, covered in stickers by people who were clearly ignoring, well, the sign.

At the top of the canyon, we headed off road to take on a 1.5 mile hike. The landscape was lush, and diverse.

And then the trail started to disappear. We turned around not long after this.

We read later that people have gone missing in Kaua’i because they get lost on hikes, think they are walking on solid ground, but are walking on outcrops of plant life that overhang canyons, and then fall down cliffs and die. Yeah, glad we turned around.

Back at the car, there were more fowl.

We kept driving, and at the very top of the canyon is a view of the Napoli Coastline. Just gorgeous!

As well as the outdoor adventures that took us to great heights, we were also living the ‘high life’. Our room at the Marriott Kaua’i was a beautiful suite with this view of Kalapaki Bay:

Yes, beautiful. Even with the sound of roosters.

Next post: Hawaii H2O

A big bite

May 5, 2009May 5, 2009sandybarker

I live with an amazing person. Yesterday morning, despite a niggling cold, he jumps out of bed and says, “Let’s have tea on the roof.” So, we made mugs of tea, grabbed our books, and headed to the roof of our building to enjoy the morning sun, and our incredible view.

Yes, it is a little gray today (it was sunny yesterday), but we are so close to the city and the water that I love the view no matter the weather. That said, the next time the sun shines – more and more as we head towards Summer – I will take more pics.

Back to the person I live with: yesterday afternoon, suffering a little from cabin fever and too many video games, he says, “Let’s head up to that park we haven’t been to yet.” It is about three blocks from home, and is less like a park and more like a series of paths and trails that traverse the giant Queen Anne hill. The canopy of trees is thick, and the air smells earthy and clean. Walking the trails I could just imagine fairies and princesses doing the same. We climbed the paths to see where they went, and headed back home. The Spring blossoms have spread a carpet of pink over the neighborhood. I stood under a huge tree and jumped up to touch the branches. A rain of petals showered down, “It’s snowing pink stuff!”

Just a little excursion shook off the cabin fever, and the post-flu blues.

This is such a beautiful city, with many wonders – big and small – that we get to encounter every day.

This is on the drive home from Ben’s aunt and uncle’s house.

Woodinville is about 30 minutes from the city, and is a semi-rural neighborhood, with white fences, rolling green hills and dozens of types of trees.

On the way back from Woodinville, we make this crossing of Lake Washington on the 520 bridge. This was a day when the wind was whipping along the lake, and because the bridge is floating, the water can be rough on one side and calm on the other.

And sometimes we get to share this city with visitors. My mom was here recently, and we took her to Bainbridge Island. We crossed Puget Sound on the ferry on a beautiful Spring day.

The main streets of Bainbridge Island are filled with cafes, stores and this church:

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And the shores are lined with trees and houses.

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For $6 dollar ferry ride, which is spectacular in itself, Bainbridge is a little treasure close to home.

More and more we are enjoying the company of new friends. Last weekend, our lovely friends Matt and Crystal invited us out on their boat, along with Monica and Brian.

It was still and peaceful out on the lake, and for some reason we were the only people who thought to get out there. We had the whole lake to ourselves. This blew us away:

Ben and I had our king and queen of the world moment as we headed back to the marina.

These are some snippets from our life here in a beautiful city. We are not sure how long we will be here – another year, or maybe more. We just want to be able to say we took a big bite out of this city. Oh, and to our friends here: keep the invitations to those parties coming!

I used to hate Woody Allen

April 16, 2009April 16, 2009sandybarker

I am sure my dislike of Woody Allen stems from my mother. She can’t stand him, and I have clear childhood memories of her saying so. “Yuk, he’s so icky,” she’d say, screwing up her face. As a child that stuff gets in there and it sticks. I grew up hating Woody Allen.

In my 20s I discovered the Manhattan Murder Mystery, which I loved. Perhaps because it is Allen’s homage to the Thin Man Films of the 30s with William Powell and Myrna Loy – and as a university film student, I had chewed through those voraciously in a matter of weeks.

Bullets Over Broadway delighted me, and I fell more in love with Dianne Wiest (an ‘affair’ that started with Footloose) who was bold and sexy. “Don’t speak,” she’d cry with that throaty voice, as she seduced John Cusack. Delicious.

Mighty Aphrodite converted me completely; the Greek Drama intrusions appealed to the thespian in me, and Mira Sorvino is brilliantly vague as Linda. At the impressionable age of 26 I had to admit that, “Yes, he is a little icky, but Woody Allen is a creative genius”.

These films were guilty pleasures, and I usually watched alone. I didn’t know how to tell my mother that I had been converted to the ways of Woody. Her echoing words remain, however, and to this day I prefer his films in which he does not appear.

Sadly, I hit a Woody wall in 1996. I went with much anticipation to Everyone Says I Love You. It sucked. Enough said. I returned with hope to De-constructing Harry, which was pretty good, and Melinda and Melinda, which I enjoyed. Some years down the track we arrive at Match Point.

I know I may be alone, but I must confess I did not like Match Point. By the end I didn’t care about any of the characters, particularly the protagonist, and hoped they would all die/get caught. I thought it should have been called What’s the Point?

I left Woody for a while, skipping Scoop and Cassandra’s Dream to return to the fold with Vicky Cristina Barcelona.

I LOVE THIS FILM. I would be so bold as to say that it is in my Top Ten. VCB is passionate, hilarious, dark, heart-breaking, sexy, and poses many pertinent questions about life and love – questions that we must all ponder at some point.

When Penelope Cruz won the Oscar for her portrayal of Maria Elena, a crazed and impassioned woman, I jumped up and down in my living room, and I cried. She was outstanding in this role, and she credits Woody Allen for showing her that she could be this dark and intense.

More recently I was introduced to a quirky wonder of the Romantic Comedy canon. “Have you seen Annie Hall?” asked my film-loving man. “Um, no.” I made a scrunched up face reminiscent of my mother’s. “Oh my God, we have to watch Annie Hall!”

I cannot imagine why I was so reticent. I knew I liked – no, loved – Woody films, so why didn’t I want to see this one, his masterpiece? And then I realized it is because he is the romantic lead in Annie Hall, and he is, well, icky.

I told Ben I would give it 20 minutes, so we started watching on a rainy Sunday afternoon.

Brilliant. Hilarious. Moving. Brilliant.

If you can watch the scene where he goes over to her apartment to kill the spider(s) in the bathroom – “Honey, there’s a spider the size of a Buick in your bathroom!” – and not laugh, you must be dead.

–Clumsy, non-existent segue–

As Ben and I lay in bed this morning, talking about how much we didn’t want to get up, and I spied THIS on the ceiling:

I then sent my man to do what men must do: kill the spider.

“Do you want to use my stool,” I offered. (I have a little step stool for the kitchen, so I can reach the flour cannister and the good wine.)

“You want me to kill the spider with your stool?” Was he crazy? Then my stool would have spider guts on it!

“No! I want you to stand on my stool and squish it with a tissue, like a real man!”

And so he did.

I realize that we’re not quite Woody Allen and Diane Keaton. But watching Ben save me from certain death with a tissue took me back to Woody doing the same for Diane (only he used a tennis racket). Just thinking about that scene makes me laugh.

Yes, I used to hate Woody Allen. Not anymore.

back on the horse

April 8, 2009April 8, 2009sandybarker

On Saturday, April 4th, Ben and I made the drive from Vancouver to Whistler in good time, despite the copious roadworks. Our accommodation in Whistler was ready for us at 9am – 7 hours before check in – which suited us perfectly, because we could change for the slopes in our apartment rather than the car park. The sun was warm, and the day would yield blue skies, which was stark contrast from the -12C weather I’d experienced my first time there in 2007. We had prepaid our rentals and ski passes, so were geared up and ready to ski by 10:30am. Not bad for leaving Vancouver at 7:30.

The only thing tainting a perfect morning was my nerves. I always get a little nervous before skiing, because I am relatively new to it, but these nerves were making it hard to concentrate on anything other than the steep runs of Whistler Mountain. I haven’t skied many places, but when I skied Whistler in 2007, I felt liked it kicked my butt. The green runs were steeper than I had experienced before and the bottom half of the mountain was icy, which means a novice spends more time slipping and sliding than skiing.

“Are you okay,” asked Ben, noticing my apprehension.

“I feel like I did right before we went sky diving.” I wasn’t kidding, and no matter how hard I tried, I could not talk myself out of that fear.

We rode the gondola to the top of Whistler and Ben had already said that he would ski part the way down with me on the green runs ‘to warm up’. I was happy with that, and by the time I was actually standing on my skis and could see the powdery snow, I was feeling more calm. The run started well, mostly because I have had quite a few more hours on skis since my first time at Whistler. Add to that the gorgeous weather, powdery snow, and a grinning boyfriend skiing next to me, and my nerves dissipated. “I can do this,” I thought as I handled slopes that would have scared me not too long ago.

Then it happened: I started having fun.

I let myself pick up speed. I tried more parallel turns (nearly there), and I took bigger chances than I usually would. I was loving it, and even laughed off a clumsy fall, which happened when I overturned and headed down the mountain backwards. I also managed a terrific parallel stop which amazed me. I didn’t know I could do that!

Ben skied off in between trees, because he can, and was pulling off a spectacular cross-country maneuver when the edge of my uphill ski clipped something hard, crossed over my other ski and I fell face forward down the slope. I put my arms out to break my fall, and ‘pop’ went my right shoulder, which is a horrible sound to hear when you fall. More horrible was the pain that shot from my shoulder to my neck and down the length of my arm. I rolled onto my back, and lay there, swearing. The swearing part was involuntary, because it was the kind of pain that makes you feel a bit nauseous.

Ben came back and helped me to my feet. He retrieved my wayward ski and helped me back onto it. He wiped off the outside – and inside – of my goggles, and I reassured him that I was okay to keep going. I cursed my clumsiness, and we got back to the business of skiing down the mountain.

The thing was, we had skied most of the soft, powdery snow. Fairly soon after my fall we hit the mid-mountain runs which were icy and more steep than those at the top. And not only did my shoulder hurt, I also started to feel the after effects of the fall. Physically, the adrenaline was wearing off, and I became shaky and weak. Mentally, I lost my ‘mojo’. All confidence was gone, and when we turned on to trails I previously would have attacked (in my clumsy, novice way), I was scared again.

We got to a major junction where Ben could get on a ski lift to more challenging parts of the mountain. I kind of begged him to ‘go on without me’. I wasn’t being dramatic. I just didn’t want to completely fall apart in front of him. He seemed disappointed, and I wasn’t sure at the time whether it was ‘for me’ or ‘in me’, but perhaps it was a little of both. He got in line for the lift, and grateful to be on my own, I continued on my way down the mountain. ‘Snowplough’ featured heavily on my descent, even though I have been beyond that for some time now.

I skied 2/3 of the way down, and came upon a gondola station where I could ride the rest of the way to Whistler Village. As I leaned against the bench in the gondola I let my tears of frustration fall. I had a stern ‘get back on the horse’ talk with myself, and I knew that if Ben was disappointed in me – even if only a little – it could not compare to how annoyed I was at myself.

At the bottom of the mountain I splashed water on my face, looked hard at myself in the mirror and shook off my feelings of self-derision. I killed time before lunch with Ben by mooching about shops, and when I entered l’Occitane, I was greeted by three Aussie accents. I spent about half an hour having a chat with lovely young ex-pats who were good company, and let me try lots of different products. When I left for lunch I was feeling – and smelling – better.

Over lunch, Ben and I decided that we would start the next day by riding the Peak to Peak gondola that runs from the top of Whistler to the top of Blackcomb Mountain. There were green runs from there all the way down Blackcomb, so I could rest up for the rest of the day and then start fresh in the morning. I was committed to getting back on the horse. I spent the afternoon alone, but not lonely, nursing my aching shoulder. We then spent a lovely evening which included the resort’s hot tub, drinks by the fireplace of a wine bar, and a gourmet Japanese dinner.

I slept carefully, mostly on my left side, keeping my right arm close to me like an injured wing. When I woke on Sunday and tried to do something simple, like pushing the covers off me, I knew I wouldn’t be skiing that day either. My should and upper arm hurt worse, and showering, drying myself and especially getting into a turtleneck all presented challenges and required help from Ben. To put myself, a relative novice, on skis for the day would be irresponsible. Damn it!

I thought of wasted money and wasted opportunities – to ski again with Ben, to improve my turns, to ski under blue skies. I so desperately want to get past the part where skiing is somewhat challenging and even a little scary and onto loving it. It did occur to me to stay in our lovely apartment and read, but that thought did not last long.

I suited up for a day in the snow, and rode to gondola to the top of Whistler with Ben. We then boarded the Peak to Peak gondola, which holds the record for the longest span between towers (3 kms).

The ride gave us incredible views, including those from the window in the floor of the cabin.

Once on top of Blackcomb, I took a few shots and Ben kissed me goodbye before skiing off.

I headed indoors for a hot cuppa. I wrote most of this post in a notebook while I sipped a hot mocha and looked out at a breathtaking view.

When the table next to mine filled with three families who shared a total of seven children under six, I made a beeline for the door. (I knew I could not listen to much more whining about who got the most M&M’s.)

The ride back across the Peak to Peak was just as enjoyable, and I met a lovely Mexican couple who put me onto Arnica (a natural remedy) for my shoulder. I sought it out when I got to the base of the mountain, but two days later am still achy and sore. More rest, some anti-inflammatory pills, and keeping up with the Arnica will hopefully have me back to boxing class next week.

The rest of our time away was wonderful. We had evening drinks outdoors because the weather was so mild –

and took a morning walk along a trail through the woods before we left.

I got over the disappointment of not skiing, and am keen to hit the slopes again soon – mostly likely in Washington, if we can make time before the end of the season. My turns are coming along, and I really want to get better. I will ski Whistler again some day, but for now she remains the victor. She is beautiful, but she kicked my butt again.

A hot cuppa

March 31, 2009March 31, 2009sandybarker

In Australia (and England, and a few other countries steeped in the Imperialist love of hot tea), any bad situation can be helped, if not fixed, by a nice, hot ‘cuppa’. In fact, it is a common response when a friend bemoans their dilemma to say,”I’ll put the kettle on.” Things start to look up when there is a big mug of tea in your hand.

The term ‘cuppa’ comes from the lazy way we antipodeans say ‘cup of tea’. We say ‘cuppa tea’, and because we shorten as much of our language as possible, over the years it has become ‘cuppa’. I have known since childhood that hot tea is a cure-all, but it was only last year when I learned why tea is such a therapeutic beverage. I knew all about the antioxidants (I don’t live under a rock), but the ‘at ease’ feeling that tea elicits is due to an amino acid called L-Theanine. Tetley tea launched an advertising campaign in 2008 highlighting L-theanine, and on their site have this to say:

Tetley is a natural source of theanine
Since ancient times it has been said that drinking tea brings relaxation. Scientists are now studying the effects of theanine and it is believed that although theanine creates a feeling of relaxation, it doesn’t shut down the brain. So it allows you to be relaxed yet alert at the same time.

Relaxed, yet alert. And isn’t that how you want to feel when your life is in crisis? I should say that I am drinking tea as I write this, and even though I am not in crisis, I do feel relaxed and alert.

I got to thinking about tea a couple of days ago when Ben and I went to a favorite coffee shop close to home (yes, I appreciate the irony). As we walked to the coffee shop in the rain, we passed by two homeless men sitting under an awning, each bundled up against the cold and the wet. I barely glanced at them, but as we stood in line to order our ‘cuppa mud’ (as the sign in Caffe Ladro says), I couldn’t get the men out of my head. I was about to enjoy sitting in the warmth with my best friend drinking a hot cuppa, and they weren’t.

I ordered 2 extra coffees and a couple of giant cookies, and put together a little tray for each of them. I left the coffee shop, and walked quickly through the rain to where they were. “Here,” I said handing them the coffee, “this is for you.” The surprise and then gratitude on their faces broke my heart a little. I walked back to the coffee shop, brushing tears away. As I sat drinking my coffee, my thoughts kept returning to the homeless men.

When I moved here three months ago I was hyper aware of the indigent population, but it soon became ‘normal’ to walk past and not look directly at a homeless person. It bothers me when I do that, though. Every time.

When I go to the supermarket, there is almost always a homeless person standing outside selling Real Change, which is a newspaper dedicated to social change. It sells for $1, and not too long after moving here, I started avoiding the sellers and walking straight past them into the store. For the sake of $1. I’ve stopped doing that. When I go to the store now, I carry the $1 in my pocket, walk up and say ‘hello’, and look the person in the eye. It is a brief exchange, and they are always thankful, but it is mostly selfish on my my part.

You see, I am still job hunting, while I work part-time for my mother. Money is tight at the moment, and I dip into savings more than I would care to, but I am more fortunate than most. I have a beautiful home, I have a bright future and I have love in my life. I can also afford a cuppa at my local coffee shop, so I can certainly spare a dollar once in a while. Those small exchanges I have through the week with people far less fortunate than me remind me to keep my head out of my bottom, and stay positive.

And when the knock-backs sometimes get too much for me, I put the kettle on and sit down with a nice, hot cuppa. It helps, really it does.

An Inconvenienced Truth

March 23, 2009March 23, 2009sandybarker

I am not a good traveler. There it is: the truth. In my head I could win the Amazing Race. In reality, the first time we (my imaginary race partner and I) missed a plane I would shed hot, frustrated tears and settle into a pissy mood that would last the whole episode.

Last Sunday I missed my flight to Vegas.

It was not my fault, but a comedy of errors performed by United Airlines. We spent two hours on the tarmac before takeoff from Seattle en route to San Francisco. Then in SF, where at least a third of the plane was connecting to other flights, they told us the wrong gate for the Vegas flight. It was 75 (right next door to the gate where we landed), not 79 (on the other side of the terminal – and a long run with hand luggage).

By the time I realized the airline’s error, I had missed the Vegas flight. When I was informed that I could squeeze onto the next flight, which was in four hours, I was less than delighted. Four hours when you’re flying from Seattle to Vegas is longer than a direct flight takes. Irony tastes even more bitter when you’re faced with airport food rather than a meal cooked by your mother.

I asked for a meal voucher to make up for being inconvenienced. “I wish I could help you, but our airline stopped issuing meal vouchers for delayed passengers last year. Sorry.” I believed that he was sorry, and then I did what any sane and reasonable adult person would do. I cursed under my breath, and then I cried hot, frustrated tears.

As I walked away from the service counter, I wondered how in the hell I was going to fill four hours in stupid, boring , horrible San Francisco airport (to be fair, I would have thought that about any airport under the circumstances). I continued to curse to no one in particular, because cursing is my pressure valve. There are times when it is the only way for me to regain my equilibrium. I may have looked like a crazy woman wandering the airport muttering to myself with an angry look on my face, but it was not long until the cursing did its job and I felt better.

I fixed my face, bought some more magazines, and braved the airport food court for dinner.

That killed a whole hour.

Skipping ahead to the return flight: different airline, on time, seated in an exit row. Feeling good about getting home to Seattle. Two new magazines to read. “Ladies and gentlemen, we will be turning off the cabin lights for take off and the duration of the flight. However, if you would like to continue reading, there is a light above your head.” No reading light. Broken.

The man next to me noticed my small predicament, and said he would turn his light on so I could see. He did, and then promptly broke it while trying to angle it towards me. “Oops,” he said as the light went out. “I suppose they don’t move.” It was a sweet gesture. I stopped the flight attendant and asked if they had a flashlight I could borrow. “Sorry, no.” I suppose they need those to be fully charged and working in case there is an emergency more pressing than my broken reading light.

I soon realized, however, that if I leaned all the way forward, resting my head on the seat in front of me, and angled the page towards the aisle, I could make out about a third of the text. It grew tiresome.

We landed early (Hooray). We waited forty minutes for our luggage (Boo!). And as I stood there at 10pm alongside a baggage carousel that remained stagnant, and looked around at other annoyed passengers, I started to question the whole, ‘I am a traveler’ thing.

This brings me back to my opening: I am not a good traveler. Actually, it is just that I hate flying. I have said this before, I know, but the hatred is starting to overshadow the excitement of going somewhere new. The whole flying thing is much better with Ben by my side. He is a great travel buddy. Mainly because he humors me when I behave like this.

But also because he is far more laid back about delays and little inconveniences. When we’re delayed and we’re together, we play Yahtzee or Peggle (the world’s greatest electronic pinball game). He keeps me grounded when we’re grounded.

So all of this begs the question: Am I a bad traveler, or is it just the transit that gets to me? Maybe I am just a bad ‘transiter’.

Once I get to where I am going, I am just as amenable to sleeping in a rustic cabin as a five star hotel. I will gladly climb, hike, swim and cycle my way around the wilderness. I happily drink with locals and share my table with strangers. I love to explore tiny curio shops, galleries and museums in tiny towns. I like to eat, try and experience new things. I equally appreciate the majesty of nature and architecture, and I am all about learning some of the native language.

Phew! I am still a traveler. I just don’t transit so well.

Next post: When Venice isn’t Venice.

3 days ’til Spring

February 27, 2009March 3, 2009sandybarker

Spring is three days away, and this is what we woke to:

and this:

It is a pretty sight, I must admit, but it is noon and 2 Celsius (36F). Brrrr. We were warned. We’d been told that February teases with bouts of warm weather, like we had last week when it hit the teens (54F), and then digresses into wintry weather once again. On days of warm, sunny weather I ran outside without gloves and a hat, and I got hot! Imagine!

Today is the digression. It is still novel enough to inspire me to take photographs, but I imagine that if I had to drive to work today – like Ben did – on slippery roads, the novelty would wear thin pretty quickly.

Oh, yes, and I am mindful that I am beginning to think of 13 Celsius as ‘warm’.

Footnote:

As I have discovered, the Americans do not consider the 1st of the month to mark the first day of the season. Apparently, March 20th is the first day of Spring here. I stand corrected. These little differences are getting curiouser and curiouser.

He’s a doer

February 26, 2009February 26, 2009sandybarker

Last night President Obama addressed Congress. It was televised live, and I watched as I did last month during the Inauguration, transfixed.

Ben came home half way through, and we sat side by side, nodding, and occasionally commenting to each other. “He’s a doer,” I said at the end. “Some people are talkers, and some people are doers. He’s a doer.”

“I hope so,” was Ben’s reply.

After the speech I caught Ben up on what he had missed, and he responded with a mixture of hope and a healthy dose of pragmatism. “I know he is all about change, and that he wants to sanction the banks for everything they’ve done, but I heard almost the exact same thing out of Bush’s mouth last year. I just hope that he actually does it.”

I understand where Ben is coming from. He has lived here his whole life, and for the past 8 years has had to listen to a President who, it has now been revealed, lied – and without apology. I understand that in politics there are key phrases that come up again and again, and that when they come from the mouth of someone new, it is hard not to attach all the connotations conjured by the previous guy. I feel I experienced something similar in Australia at the end of 2007, when the election campaigns hit their stride. It is hard not to be cynical.

But there is a buzz in the air here. It is palpable. He is not the Messiah. Understood. The ‘buzz’ is about him being a man of action, as has already been demonstrated. What makes him different from others is the integrity that grounds his words, and that he speaks frankly. About those who are responsible for this economic mess he said, “I will not spend a single penny for the purpose of rewarding a single Wall Street executive…”, and he knows”…how unpopular it is to be seen as helping banks right now, especially when everyone is suffering in part from their bad decisions.” And this, “I promise you — I get it.” The more I listen to his practical and straightforward policies, the more I believe that he does get it. People here are fed up, hurting and ready to get back on track. He gets that, which is why he was elected.

He went on to talk about Health and Education reform, and the dependency we have on fossil fuels. When he addressed the upcoming budget, I was reminded of that brilliant scene in the film, Dave, where he gets his accountant friend in to look at the budget. His friend, played by Charles Grodin, is staggered at the wasteful spending. President Obama had this to say:

“In this budget, we will end education programs that don’t work and end direct payments to large agribusinesses that don’t need them. We’ll eliminate the no-bid contracts that have wasted billions in Iraq and reform our defense budget so that we’re not paying for Cold War-era weapons systems we don’t use. We will root out the waste, fraud and abuse in our Medicare program that doesn’t make our seniors any healthier, and we will restore a sense of fairness and balance to our tax code by finally ending the tax breaks for corporations that ship our jobs overseas.” Hooray!

As I stridently seek work, knocked back again and again in a sick and sad economy, despite my experience and qualifications, I can have hope. I have the personal hope that comes from knowing I am in the right place for me, and that something will come along. I can also have hope that this country – my adopted homeland – will pull itself up by its bootstraps and get on with it. And that hope comes from knowing that the person at the helm is a doer.

The speech.

What’s that aboot?

February 24, 2009February 24, 2009sandybarker

We spent the weekend in Vancouver, Canada. I need to make that distinction, because there is actually a Vancouver in Washington State. We discovered this as we sat in the car at 6:40am on Saturday morning, trying to input a Vancouver address into the GPS to no avail. We were due at 10am to claim a ‘prize’ we won at a recent travel show. The prize – a trip to Las Vegas for two, including flights and accommodation – comes with the catch that we must endure a 90 minute timeshare presentation. That’s it. We were both adamant we could sit still long enough to claim our prize, and then have the rest of the weekend to get out into a favorite city.

Back to the car at 6:40am on Saturday: the address didn’t compute because we are actually expected in Vancouver, Washington, three hours to the south. Vancouver, Canada is three hours to the north. Bugger! We laughed about it. I had gotten up at 5:45 to shower. So there we sat – do we drive down to Vancouver, Washington (probably not as enticing as the one to the north) to keep our appointment? Or head north where we had a hotel room booked, and the expectation of a fun weekend.

We headed north. And called the timeshare people from the road.

A treat when we arrived in Vancouver was blue skies and a mild sunny day – the first I have ever experienced there. I suggested we drive up to Grouse Mountain, about 20 minutes out of the city. The drive there took us through Stanley Park,

and across the Lion Gate Bridge.

It was a busy day at the base of the mountain, which was understandable considering there is skiing and snowboarding up there, and the weather was beautiful.
The cable car ride takes 6 minutes.

At the top, we walked into the bistro just as it opened and claimed a table by the window. I had never seen Vancouver from this height, as the last time I had been up the mountain (last year with Lara), it had been cloudy and rainy – and dark!

But Saturday was perfect and we could see the city laid out before us.

We ate a leisurely – and early – lunch of burgers, and chased it down with a delicious BC Pinot Blanc. We have tried this varietal a few times now, and it is well worth a sip – or two.

Back on flat ground, we checked into the Hyatt, mooched about for the afternoon – including a trip to the hotel gym – and then headed out for an early dinner at Wild Rice. Early lunch = early dinner. We loved the food there, except the spring rolls which were flavorless and oily. We sent them back. BUT the Kung Po chicken was inspired, the salt and pepper squid rivaled that which you can get in Sydney, and the hot and sour soup was hot – and sour! Delicious. We also enjoyed that all food was brought to the table in serving dishes, so we could serve ourselves. Overall, well worth a visit, and is a runner-up in the ‘Best Asian Dining’ 2008 in Food and Wine Magazine. But seriously, the spring rolls need attention.

Breakfast the next day was a special treat. We headed two blocks away to Caffe Artigiano, where I have previously had the best coffee EVER.

Muffins and a bowl of smooth, hot, creamy coffee. Heaven.
“You brought reading material,” commented Ben when returned to the table with our coffees. The coffees were huge, and I knew we’d be there a while. WIRED for him. SELF for me. We sat, we supped, we read, we smiled at each other across the table in silence while we enjoyed our breakfast. “That as so good, I kinda want another one.” I knew what he meant. We could easily have killed another hour with another cup, but we needed to check out of the Hyatt.

Our last outing for the day after checking out, was to head to the Vancouver Art Gallery.

I know Ben loves contemporary exhibitions, and they also had a Canadian Impressionist exhibit I wanted to see. The Impressionists didn’t disappoint, and there were some extraordinary pieces, but the collection became somewhat repetitive. more interesting were the second and third floors, filled with contemporary pieces and installations.

I was struck by this:

It is “Skull 2008” by Kristi Malakoff, and is 12 feet tall. It is constructed of 12,000 paper flowers, which are photographs she took, cut out and then assembled onto this wall.
Here is a detail:

Those flowers are 2-dimensional, even though they do not look it. It was my favorite piece of the How Soon Is Now collection. There were many that left me cold, however. And wanted to ask, “Really?” One installation was 6 panes of glass lying on the floor. That’s it. So, in the spirit of ‘art is subjective’, I created some of my own. Here are three pieces inspired by simplicity.

ROTUND(a)

GOING DOWN

TOPSY TURVY ESCALATOR

Okay, maybe I am being a little facetious, but 6 panes of glass? Perhaps it was left there accidentally by construction workers. Someone puts a rope around it, and it becomes art.

Outside the gallery is this:

It is the Olympic countdown clock. It should say at the top, ‘this clock will self-destruct in…’, because BC – like many Olympic sites before them – is going into massive debt – to the tune of about 8billion dollars – to meet their Olympic obligations next year. I realize that because the U.S. government is throwing around figures like 782billion, that 8billion doesn’t sound like much, but it is. I do suppose that if we are still living in Seattle this time next year, it is very likely we will do our bit to help refill the coffers.

Our trip back to the United States took a bit longer than our journey to Canada – by 2 hours and 30 minutes, which is the amount of time we waited at the border.

People got out, played some ball sports, and the atmosphere was generally more festive than any other delayed border crossing I have experienced. The North Americans are a little blase about the whole border thing, I have to say. It will get more strict in June when you need more than a Driver’s License to cross from one country to the other, but my experience of border delays is ‘stay in the car, and do not make a peep’. Not so yesterday…

Ben stretching his legs.

When we eventually got up to the border, expecting to contribute to the delay for those behind us, we were waved through after a cheeky border guard asked if I was trying to smuggle in Vegemite. I played the role of the charming Aussie girl, Ben the chuffed boyfriend, and we were on out way.

Because of this huge delay, I had resigned myself to the fact that we were going to miss the start of the Oscars – the part with the big song and dance number. I am such a Hugh Jackman fan too. But no. As if by magic, out of the 100 channels we subscribe to, our TV was set the right one (ABC), so when we walked in and turned it on – about 20 minutes after it started – we could ‘rewind’ to the beginning and watch it delayed. SIGH. It was a brilliant end to a brilliant weekend.

Thank you, as ever, to my best friend, Ben, who makes sitting home on the couch as fun as a trip to another country.

Oh, and the title of my post? Just a little nod to our friends to the north. That’s what that is aboot.

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