How Hot Was It?

I am not one to ever complain about heat. I mean, really? We are the ones who visited Phoenix during the dog days of August. I've done Israel in May. Believe me, heat does not affect me. But is it ever hot here. Australia is gong through one of their hottest weeks on record, and I am writing this from the friendly confines of the protected ocean breezes here in Sydney. Around the country, they are contending with dozens of bush and wildfires. We can only imagine what it is going to be like as we leave for the broiling Outback. They are calling for temperatures of 45 degrees Celsius at Ayres Rock tomorrow. If I were a meat eater, I might say that it will be hot enough to roast a suckling pig, but given my confirmed veggie status, I will only say that a potato doesn't stand a chance in those furnaces of Hades.

I think that the people on our tour are worried. They are hoarding water like it is liquid gold, all the while complaining about the prices. Seriously?? Half of them are from Texas, California, and Florida--certainly not places known for their moderate temperatures. The group is mostly made up of Americans, a few subjects of Her Majesty, and 3 Canucks--Us and Peggy.

Peggy ("Don't call me Margaret") is a tiny pistol of a woman who is definitely several years my parents' senior. Hailing from Ottawa, she travels the world mostly on her own, as she is on this trip, and she isn't afraid to do or try anything new. She flew in yesterday after a full 24 hour voyage from our nation's capital, and still she showed up at the orientation looking fresh and raring to go. When we went down to meet the tour this morning, Peggy was the first one there.

We took a coach tour (Don't you like how I am acquiring the local slang?) throughout the myriad of neighbourhoods that make up this fascinating city. It is truly one of the most photogenic places that I have ever visited. I might have to put it on par with San Francisco, and that is really saying something. I am constantly amazed that this entire country was built and developed by convicts. There is something brutally dirty and sordid in every country's colonial history. None of us treated our Native People with any dignity or respect, and we all tended to build our nations on the backs of the less fortunate. Ouch.

Following the tour, The Husband and I made our way to The Rocks, a regentrified area that has become the home to shops, galleries, pubs, (they do love their drink here in Oz) and on Sundays a beautiful open air market that puts the flea markets back home to shame. Artists, musicians, chefs, and craftspeople all out displaying and selling their creations to the excited tourists and Sydneyisians. (Does that sound right? What else does one call a resident of Sydney?)

Tomorrow we enter into the infernos of hell. I always knew that I would end up there someday. I just thought that I might have a bit more time to repent. I will let you know if I am provided with a fan.

 

Posted with Blogsy

It's a Beach Day

Shabbat in Sydney! What does every good Jew do on Shabbat? If you guessed shul....so sorry you'll have to proceed to the consolation round. No, these particular Jews emulated their Israeli brethren and headed for the beach...the world famous Bondi Beach to be specific.

It is the beginning of summer vacation here and it seems like every resident of Sydney had the same idea we did. It's 29 degrees Celsius, there isn't a cloud in the sky, a slight breeze is in the air, and freedom. We arrived early at the beach, but even then there wasn't a parking space to be had, and all the choice spots on the sand had already been scoped out. We weren't in it for the sun and the surf however, but rather had decided to do the Bondi to Coogee Beach walk along the coast. This magnificent but challenging path is about a 6km hike along some of the most stunning coastline ever viewed. The Pacific is a startling shade of azure blue, and the contrast against the powder white sand is simply gorgeous. We hiked and walked for a couple of hours, stopping numerous times to take pictures. I was in awe of the surfers. There is something truly mesmerizing about a kid defying gravity with nothing but a sheet of polyurethane to deflect the crashing of the waves. Breathtaking!

Upon our return to Bondi, we had lunch along the boardwalk and ran down to the ocean so that I could stick my feet into the water. I just had to do it for my friend Twin Son's Better Half who has an odd and insatiable desire to walk in every body of water we visit. This one was for you friend.

We took a scenic cab ride back through some of the eclectic neighbourhoods of Sydney, where of course the Jews in us just had to take notice of Chabad (they really are everywhere!) and the Australian orthodox marking Shabbat in their own way.

This afternoon we met with our tour group for the first time. The Husband is definitely the youngest in the group, and we are the only non-retirees, but they seem like a nice bunch. There are only two people who use walkers and one who employs the aid of a cane, so a basically spry group. Our guide Jim, is a transplanted American who has made Aliyah Down Under. We begin the tour portion in earnest tomorrow with a city tour of Sydney.

A few random thoughts.

For those who asked, the concert was really fun. We saw Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings. (If you're like us, you're probably saying "Who?) This woman was incredible. She was like a cross between Tina Turner and James Brown. Her voice was blasting and her energy all-consuming. She was the absolute definition of perpetual motion. Sharon had the sold-out crowd dancing in the aisles and a few even joined her up on stage. We really enjoyed it, but were frankly more enthralled by our surroundings. This venue has perfect acoustics and sight lines. Truly a marvel.

My time as Phyllis seems to have begun. We checked in with the tour company and I introduced myself as Dawn as is, of course my natural habit. I had once again forgotten about the passport/given first name laws. We met our guide Jim, and I explained it all to him of course, but we shall see if he remembers or if I am doomed for the next week to be monikered as Phyllis by all of our fellow tourists. Mom and Dad....I curse you for this!!

Vegetarians of the world unite. I think that there is real opportunity for a chain of restaurants down here to serve our kind. I had my first taste of protein today in the form of some feta cheese in my salad. These Aussies seem very perplexed by the idea of tofu, seitan, or beans. We are working on it, but salads have so far been our standard bill of fare.

There seems to be a national, or at least a city-wide concentration on physical fitness. We have never seen so many joggers, bikers, walkers, swimmers, or skaters at one time. Everybody in this city seems to be trying to improve their fitness level. It is so fantastic. Just imagine if that were to happen in Toronto in preparation for the upcoming Pan-Am Games. A city totally invested in getting healthier and more fit. Think the mayor would go for it?

 

Posted with Blogsy

Sydney While Conscious

It is amazing what one misses while semi-comotose. This is a truly beautiful city to behold, especially while my eyes are wide open. We decided to get an early start today.....not difficult since The Husband was awake at 3:00am. By 8:30 we stopped for coffee and a muffin and set out our plan for the great walking tour of Sydney.

We decided that we really wanted to visit the Sydney Jewish Museum. Australia has a vibrant Jewish community and God forbid I should miss the Jew stuff in any part of the world that I visit. I may be on vacation, but that little voice that screams Yiddish epithets in my ear won't let me forget my roots. So we hiked through downtown Sydney, past some very upscale stores, about two miles to Darlinghurst, a very funky neighbourhood where the museum is situated. Given our start time, we pretty much opened the place along with another couple and a young student from Brisbane. We were all set to self-guide, when an elderly Holocaust survivor named Gita offered to give us all the grand tour. Given that there were only five of us we could hardly refuse. Gita's story is not unlike many heard before, but I was fascinated by her first emigration from Vienna to Shanghai before the worst of the war, and finally to her final stop here in Australia. She told us that following the war, Australia took in more refugees per capita than any other country besides Israel. The Jewish population down here has ballooned to almost 70,000, with the majority found here in Sydney and in Melbourne. Many came following the war, but many more came from South Africa in the sixties and seventies. The first Jewish settlers down here were not surprisingly, convicts shipped over from England. One of the most famous, a thief by the name of Ikey Solomon, spent most of his life evading his transportation to the colony, but when he did get here he made a name for himself. It is thought that Dickens used Solomon as the basis for his character of Fagin in Oliver Twist. Literary Jew facts. Cool!

The museum is small, quaint, but beautifully structured. It does make a lasting impression.

We headed out and over to the Domain, another lovely area in order to see the New South Wales Art Gallery. We didn't last all that long. Realizing that we hadn't had a proper meal in almost 24 hours, we walked through the Botanic Gardens and found a nice spot for lunch.

The Harbour and Quays areas showcased quite a bit that we missed during yesterday's stupor. We ambled down passed the port terminal and found ourselves in The Rocks, a neighbourhood filled with small shops and galleries. This is a spot that demands a return visit.

Tonight...R&B at the Opera House. I think I might have said jazz in yesterday's post, but I was awash in an exhaustion haze. Forgive me.

A few random thoughts.

This may be a beautiful city but it also an expensive one. Eating out here on a regular basis could bankrupt a person.

Where did all of the leggy blonds come from? Was Sweden having a garage sale?

I still haven't entirely figured out how to cross the street. It just isn't in my DNA to look right first. The Husband has saved me from near disaster more than once already and it is only day 2.

 

Posted with Blogsy

G'Day G'dEvening and G'dNight

We are here. We aren't exactly sure what day it is, what time zone we are are in, or how long we have been awake, but we are definitely here in the land of Oz. How do I know for certain? Well this lovely iconic structure kind of gives the whole thing away.

After 4 flights, 5 airports, more times changing my watch than I can count, wearing the same underwear for 34 straight hours, (ew!!) and the total absence of January 2nd from our consciousness, (Yep. That date just didn't happen for us this year. We will be celebrating an abbreviated 2013 of only 364 days) Sydney has opened her sun-drenched and summer-filled arms to these weary Canadians.

Determined to stay awake and hopefully go to bed at a logical hour, we checked into the hotel and immediately headed on foot down to the harbour. The place is packed with tourists and summer vacationers with kids out of school. There's a party going on down at Sydney Harbour. Vendors, restaurants, guided tours, and musicians all ready to take whatever we will all pay out. 40 bucks to buy a CD of an aborigine musician playing his didgeridoo. I think not. He want 30 just to pose with him and the boomerangs his kids painted. Everybody is an entrepreneur.

The opera house is a site to behold. One of those "I can't believe I'm actually here" moments. It is truly beautiful and an architectural marvel. We will be taking a full tour of the place in a day or two. As well, The Husband arranged for us to see a jazz concert there tomorrow evening. The idea of hearing live music there is so very cool. Sister/Cousin's Adventurer told us that we must spend some time at the Royal Botanical Gardens here in Sydney. It is an amazing place more reminiscent of Central Park in NYC, than a garden. We wandered around for several hours until the two of us were about ready to drop from exhaustion. We doubled back to a small cafe situated on the water and had what is looking more and more like a late lunch/ early dinner. We will most definitely be turning in early this evening so that we won't be genuinely ill for the remainder of our stay.

A few quick thoughts.

Air New Zealand is the best airline I have ever flown with, bar none. Lovely staff, attention to detail, and they really seemed to care about our business.

Princess ditched us at the airport and forgot our transfer. Had to fork out for a cab, but The Husband is already on the warpath. Something tells me that we won't be paying for that cab ride.

Lounges are the hidden secret of the airline industry. They really do make the whole experience much more civilized.

For those of you concerned about the issue, or for those of you who had Day One in the "When will Dawn lose her cookies" derby, I'm fine so far, but thanks for asking. A couple of rocky moments on the long leg to Auckland, but I weathered them and lived to tell the tale. The Husband asked me what I thought of the idea of whale watching from a rickety ferry in the harbour, but I just smiled exhaustedly and turned my attention towards the contortionist at the dock trying to stuff herself into a small lucite box. Oh the things kids will do for a buck these days.

I will try and blog as much as possible, but the hotel seems to require the promise of my first-born as the fee for Internet service. I think that ship has sailed, so I will do the best I can. Keep checking back for updates. Until then....G'Day Mates!!

 

Posted with Blogsy

The Preparations

A riddle.

What do you get when you cross an anal retentive, obsessive compulsive, slightly neurotic fifty-year old woman with a laid back, laissez-faire, compulsively procrastinating, fifty-year old (in six months time) man?

The answer? Explosions, of course. With a healthy side dish of tirade and fireworks. 

We leave in two days. TWO!! I have had my clothes and sundry items laid out on the bed in the spare room for over a week. I have added, subtracted, multiplied, and divided outfits so many times that my math skills have improved exponentially, and even I am not certain what is coming with me Down Under. I have run to Target, Walmart, and Walgreens so often that I think that the cashiers know me by name. 

"Uh-oh. It's the crazy lady from Toronto again. First they steal half of our baseball team and now they send us her??"

The Husband? He has been half-heartedly promising to perhaps consider thinking about the notion that the idea of packing might be a good thought.

I've been ready to kill. 

What does he think will happen? That all of his stuff will just magically jump into the suitcases? No. That's ludicrous. Rather he is hoping that I will do it all for him. I have tried repeatedly to explain to him that I have raised my children. I don't want or need another. I have been at my nagging best for the last seven days, while he has played the passive-aggressive game perfectly. Stalemate.

Until today. The urgency of 48 hours finally hit him like the whack on the head I only wished to deliver, and his kibbles and bits finally made an appearance amongst my paraphernalia. We are now semi-packed and in a truly anal retentive, obsessive compulsive, slightly neurotic manner that makes me so proud. I have my mother to thank for this system. We have used it for many years on big trips, but it is absolutely inspired and brilliant. (I seem to recall Twin Son ridiculing me for it mercilessly in Eretz Yisrael, but finally coming around to skillful simplicity of it all by journey's end.) Everything goes into Ziploc packages and packing bags.  Everything!! Pants, shirts, t-shirts, bathing suits....the whole shmear. Take a look.

It is a beautiful method that allows for ease in unpacking, repacking, and quick searches. Nothing gets creased and everything is accessible. It makes me very happy. I know. That's weird, but it does. You have no idea how relaxed this all made me. Now that most of the stressful preparations are done, I can finally look forward to the excitement that awaits.

We depart New Year's Day and I will attempt to blog as much as internet and Wifi will allow. Please keep an eye on this space for further updates or you could subscribe if you so choose. Just a thought.

Oh.....and a Happy and Healthy 2013 to all. May the coming year see us all where we truly wish to be. 

 

My Happy Dance

30 for 30! Happy NaBloPoMo to all! It has been quite a ride people. Thank you to all who visited and continue to visit this petri dish of a blog. (It sounds germ laden! Masks and gloves available at the front.) I know that I am still trying to figure out what this whole thing wants to be when it grows up, but it is an interesting social experiment nonetheless.

I am grateful to the Blogher community for allowing us all to connect in such a meaningful way. There are others out there like me. Who knew? I have read some remarkable postings over these past thirty days, and I have been both enriched and slightly awed by many of you. Ok. And a bit disturbed as well. But that has made it all the more exciting.

I won't be attempting December. Too much to do and so little time to do it all. But I will post again as the spirit moves. There is after all a big trip coming up in the new year. How could I not share all of that? I know that many of you are just itching to find out if I made it through all of those flights without tossing my cookies!

So until then....task complete and task well done. And now.....everybody dance!

My Travel Paradox

Here's a paradox for you. I love to travel but travelling makes me sick. How does one reconcile this mess?

Some needed history.

The Husband and I have always talked of extensive travel. There is after all, so much out there that we want to see and experience, and only a fraction of that can be found within a ten mile radius of our home. Pictures are nice and so are travelogues, but we have always had a desire to get out there and view the world face to face. Sounds great, right? Except that travelling requires motion; movement by planes, trains, automobiles, boats, buses, and maybe even the odd helicopter. And therein lies my problem. I am a desperate wanna-be world traveller afflicted with chronic motion sickness. 

Now, I'm not talking about typical lightheadedness or the odd "I don't feel well" moment. I'm talking full on nausea, head bent over the toilet, vertigo inducing, crashing waves of rolling sickness that can strike at the most inopportune of touristy moments. I have been sidelined at some of the most beautiful places in the world. Really! The Blue Grotto in Capri? The Husband took stunning pictures for me, because I was cleaning up in a "pay for play" restroom after a particularly horrendous bout brought on by a mercilessly bouncing hydrofoil ride over from Naples. Sausalito? The ferry from San Francisco rocked for 40 minutes until I was so green that we had to sit for an hour on a park bench after disembarking. Saint Lucia? The pitons were great to see going up, but the van ride coming down had me hanging my head out of the window like a labrador retriever with my tongue blowing in the wind. Santorini? I actually stuck my head under a closed-flap tarp on a tender boat so that I might have fresh air. These stories are but a sampling and I tell them with massive embarrassment and zero embellishment. I have witnesses. They love to share in my humiliation. Oh the horror! There is absolutely nothing that compares on the shame scale like being stone cold sober and puking in public.

But, I refuse to let it stop me even though some say I should. Stop cruising? Ok, but I get just as sick driving in a car. Stop flying? You can't take a train across an ocean. And anyway, subways do it to me too. What am I supposed to do? Sit on my sofa and wait for the inevitable? Nope. So I suck it up, pray a little, and hope for the best. And....I try to prepare as best as I can.

As part of my upcoming Shabbatical, The Husband and I will be taking a month off to travel Down Under. Australia and New Zealand are anticipating our arrival and we are excited beyond belief, but my enthusiasm has been slightly tempered when I read about and study all of the methods of transportation that await. I worry that I might spoil Sydney or heave at the Great Barrier Reef. Wouldn't that just suck? A person's greatest travel anecdotes should not all be about vomit! It just isn't right or fair! So, I plan and I prepare. I will take the strongest possible prescription medication available. I won't read in a moving vehicle. I will try to gaze at horizons and stay in the fresh air. I won't sit at the back of a bus or car. I will wear Sea Bands even though I am not convinced about their effectiveness. (Hey. Can't hurt, right?) I will chew on ginger even though I loathe ginger. I will carry airsickness bags with me at all times. I will even chug tomato juice because I was told that it might help. All of these meticulous plans still might be for naught, but this trip is just too important to me to be sidelined by spewing.

There is no explanation as to why some people like The Husband feel nothing of the world's continual spinning on its axis, while others like me suffer every single movement. There are theories, but very little that can be done. But there is much for me to see and fawn over during our upcoming journey and I want to enjoy it all. Here's hoping that the stories I get to tell upon our return are puke free. 

*I am not proud. If any of you have remedies that you swear by to combat motion sickness, please send them along. I will try almost anything short of sacrificing live animals and virgins.