Melbourne (as a little pit stop)

Well, we’re back in the city. Downtown as a matter of fact. The days spent in Bendigo were certainly enjoyable and it was nice to feel finally “free” again after a week of WWOOFing at Adrian’s. There would be no one around to tell us what boysenberry plants needed pruning or to make sure that we’d be up by 6am just to watch the sunrise.

It turns out that Bendigo was the perfect place for us to go and explore for a few days… and to relax. It felt big enough that it’d be hard to see everything in one day, but small enough that it could be easily explored by foot. And, it’s pedestrian-friendly streets made it even easier to get from one place to another. It would be a place I wouldn’t mind visiting again- if not on this trip, maybe the next.

And, it was even more fun with our friend Uta who decided to join us last-minute. Leaving Adrian’s she had had in mind that she’d be going back to Melbourne. But, after we told her that hostel prices in the city are nearly doubled due to the Open (and she hadn’t booked a bed anywhere that night) she took a train to Bendigo with us instead. There, the four of us spent our days together and we all enjoyed her company. She made the decision to stay behind another day, after thinking of more places she’d like to see before leaving, so maybe tomorrow we’ll meet up with her again and have dinner.

Today though, Annie and I came to our senses and realized we are soon going to run out of money if we still want to go see all these places around the country, and it’s impossible to live on a penny. And, sadly, the same would be true if we WWOOFed for the rest of our time here- money’s going to be spent somewhere!

Turns out, after talking to a few people, there’s NO paid farm work to be done in Tasmania until late February. So, Annie and I are going to stick together and head north to Mildura to pick figs for at least a week and see how much we make doing that… while Riley is going to tour around by herself in south Victoria (around Melbourne) and go to Tasmania on her own if we don’t meet up with her in time to make the sail.

Annie and I are leaving February 2nd to Mildura and we’ll see what that does for us. Hopefully it’ll be worth it.

Bendigo

In the triple-degree heat there couldn’t have been a better way to cool down than to visit the city’s giant pool- equipped with a huge water slide and plenty of little kids. In the picture above, Uta (the German WWOOFer from Adrian’s who decided to join us for a couple days) and I are clearly showing our enthusiasm for the water.

The city’s not-too-old, but beautiful cathedral located in central downtown. I believe it was built in the late 1800s.

One night we listened to music in the park. The guy shown here was our favorite musician, but none of us can remember his name. Oh well.

More pictures of Kyneton (and surrounding area)

Annie, me, and Andy weeding one of Adrian’s ten gardens. The uncovered rows of beans and beetroot (shown above) took us 3 days.

A view of Ballarat’s main street.

Me on the electric bike in front of the “Big Shed Winery” vineyard.

 

 

Riley wine tasting.

 

 

 

One scary kangaroo! You can tell it’s a male from how “ripped” he is; a solid muscular frame that resembles a human’s. This picture was taken not too far away (by Riley) on Adrian’s property.

Last days in Kyneton

As much as it’s been an “experience to remember” here in Kyneton, whether that could be said for better or for worse, we’re excited to leave once again! Since I’ve written the first blog on Kyneton (only having had been here a couple nights), I must say, my thoughts on Adrian and this place has certainly changed.

He’s an old man set in his own way and is content being closed minded to the outside world. While he might read an occasional book or two of which he’d love to tell you all about, he enjoys being completely cut off from the outside world- or even bothering to know what his neighbor’s are up to. He looks at us like we’re just his workers, not bothering to ask us what any of our names are; or, to ask us things like what we’re doing in Australia, what are interests are, or what are opinions are on certain things. And, we’ve been here a week! Since I’ve arrived, he’s called me “girl number 2;” leaving Riley to be named “girl number 1,” and Annie, “number 3.”

We now realize how good of a setup WWOOF has been for him over the last years because he hasn’t had to do any work around the farm (including simply tasks like house cleaning or cooking). He’s had WWOOFers to do it all. And to think on it, back when we initially called Adrian to ask to arrange a stay on his farm, his first question for us was, “Can you cook?” If the answer was, “no,” well, then, he would’ve said, “goodbye.” The working agreement was if we work 5 8-hour days to earn ourselves 2 days off as long as we stayed a minimum of a week. Well, turns out what he meant was, you better work 40 hours in the week to get 2 days completely off. Apparently we weren’t able to achieve that.

Because we arrived at noon the first day and was only able to put in 4 hours it didn’t count towards a full-day’s work. Therefore, he felt justified to put us to work today (even though it was our second day off!) trimming boysenberry plants. You can just ask Annie how that went over. My guess is, she would tell you that it wasn’t very fun. Our arms still look like wrestled with a cat from all the scratches we got, and our fingers were blood-stained from all the stabs we endured from the long, needle-sharp thorns. I think our work here is done- both in the field and around the house. We’re ready to move on and work somewhere that might pay us a little to do the same work that we’ve done here.

But, I have to admit yesterday’s daytrip to Ballarat was really enjoyable and it’s been nice to see the surrounding area. It was amazing how refreshing it felt to “rejoin civilization” just after a few days’ away, and how wonderful it was to have certain “luxuries” (like a flush toilet or soap) at hand again. Oh, what a week of peeing a bucket will do to you. We definitely needed a break from the farm!

And, today’s bike adventure to the local winery (a kilometer away) was certainly nice. Riley, myself and another WWOOFer, Uta (from Germany), went and were pleasantly surprised to discover that tastings of all their 15 wines were free! Fortunately each taste was less than an ounce’s worth and we were able to ride back safely in time to make Adrian and ourselves dinner.

Tomorrow we’re going to another town nearby called Bendigo and staying for at least one night. There’s also thought of heading north soon to Adelaide in the weeks leading up to Tasmania. There, we hope to find paid work.

Anticlimactic “Australia Day”

Yesterday four people (a Belgium couple and two girls from the Netherlands) packed up and decided to leave in the morning. And, I’d say, they couldn’t have timed it better with how things have gone today. None of us knew what we were in for by staying.

Except last night, Adrian told us quietly over a cup of tea that “tomorrow might be a little hot for you guys. I reckon you start early… like real early, like 5:30 or 6. I heard it should get up to 41 degrees.” That, I believe, is 103 degrees Fahrenheit. Hot. Too hot to be weeding for 8 hours with no shade.

So, we were ready to start early. My alarm went off at 5:15am, and we were ready to start work by 5:45. But, there was only one problem. The sun hadn’t come up yet and they’d be no way to tell the difference between a beet root and a weed without a flashlight. It wasn’t until 6:30 that we were finally able to start work, and for us it meant a waste of a good hour’s sleep we could’ve enjoyed (and probably needed).

Already pissed off for the day, we weeded anyway for hours… and hours… until it was break time for “tea” (lunch) at noon, and then we continued afterwards for another few hours until 2:30 in the blazing sun.

Today was hard. So much for celebrating their national holiday, “Australia Day,” which is celebrated here much like our Fourth of July. I think we all wish to be near some city or town right now so that we could be apart of it or, at least, to be around people not on a farm. Maybe we’re going somewhere tomorrow…? It’s supposed to be our day off, for having had worked the last 5 days in a row. Let’s hope.

But, tonight we’ve arranged to have an Internet session at a neighbor’s house just down the road who’s agreed to trade Internet usage for blueberries. We’re looking forward to that.

WWOOF Kyneton Pictures

Adrian’s “mud-brick dwelling” that took him 5 years to build by hand. He did this while he lived in the caravan that I am now living in for the week.

 

The fire shelter that Adrian also built by hand out of brick. It is equipped with a bathroom, sitting rooms, and an oxygen supply of ~2 hours.

 

THE CARAVAN. (View from the garage.)

 

 

 

 

Caravan’s entry (view from the “living room.”)

 

 

 

 

Sunset view from the house.

 

 

 

“Biking” on an electric bicycle in the Wombat State Forest with Riley. Oh, they were so much fun and I didn’t have to break a sweat!

 

 

One of the ponds on the property we would swim in after a long hot day’s of work.

 

 

 

The kitchen with a wood stove and Uta (a German WWOOFer) “washing” the dishes with no soap.

 

Kangaroos!! There were a lot of them feeding in the grassy fields close by, but this is the only picture Riley took that wasn’t blurry. I think there’s just 2 in this photo.

WWOOFing in Kyneton

After spending a day and a half in Melbourne mostly on our own, walking around town and buying cheap clothes to work in, we packed up again and headed an hour and a half west to a little town called Kyneton. Don’t worry, none of us can properly pronounce its name either. We were happy to have only spent two nights in the hostel we chose in Melbourne because of its bad location (in apparently the “red-light district” and 10 minutes by tram from downtown), bad customer service (no one was ever at the front desk to buy internet from or get clean sheets from), and because of its dinginess. No one there ever bothered to clean their dishes and the place always reeked of smoke. So, we were excited to be off again and beginning another farm adventure.

Meeting us at the train station was a young fellow holding a cardboard sign reading, “WWOOFERS,” who was a wwoofer himself and had already been here a week. On the way back to the house, about a fifteen minute drive from the station, we began to learn more about the place we’d be staying in. “Adrian must’ve miscounted the number of wwoofers he’d have this week. He’s able to accommodate 6, but with you guys here it’ll bring us up to 9. That means, you’ll be sleeping in the caravan.” NOT the “lovely mud-brick dwelling” we’d be staying in that we were informed of both over the phone and in the WWOOF book.

Right off the bat we knew we were in for something different. Gillian drove us right up to a dilapidated-roof garage with rusted junk piled high on all sides, and pointed to one corner of it saying, “that’s it.” Looking over, we all could not believe our eyes. A camper that probably had not been used in years and we guessed was crawling with spiders, seeing from all of its broken windows. All we could do was laugh. And we did, for minutes. We didn’t have a clue as to what to say, or how to even begin to get in the darn thing if we tried. Was this a joke?

Turns out, the angle at which we had been looking from was not its best, as we later discovered its front-addition of a living room about twice the size of the caravan itself. Plenty of room for the three of us. After Riley claimed a twin size bed in the living room and Annie took a couch, I thought I would begin to call the caravan “home” for a week. Not too far away (~200 yards) was the mud-brick dwelling our host, Adrian, and five other wwoofers stayed in. The sixth guy slept in a tent somewhere out in the property next to a lake. Apparently, we kicked him out of his home when he heard three girls were coming.

Staying here has been a similar experience for us as, we would say, to camping. We’re located right in the heart of the Australian countryside with nothing but trees and wildlife for many miles, with no internet, phone, or soap. Electricity and hot water is generated off of solar power, but because he doesn’t have any appliances other than one t.v. that he doesn’t know how to operate to turn it on, he gets a hefty monthly check from the power company for feeding the grid. He also makes a living off of his land, selling anything from berries (blueberries, raspberries, strawberries), garlic and onion, to graphed trees for two-thirds of the year. Cooking is done on a wood stove, which I think would take ages to ever get used to as far as temperature goes, and the bathroom is nothing but a hole in the ground.

Adrian, like no surprise, is an interesting character, but mostly for the good. He’s a born and bred Aussie who believes in a simple life living off the land and doesn’t ask for much from others. At the age of being a grandpa (and I think he is) he’s learned a lot over the years of which he loves to share and is genuinely interested in learning anything new. We’ve had many late-night group discussions on anything from politics and religion, to where we’ve grown up and our experiences and thoughts in life. All of which I’ve enjoyed.

The other wwoofers here that we’ve met have been fun to talk to and meet. They’re from all areas of the world including Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany, and Australia. And, I’m pretty sure no one knows when they’re leaving.

Everyday we’ve spent mostly picking blueberries, weeding the 10 large gardens he has, and trimming Pinot grape vines. Not too bad for the relaxation we still give ourselves in the evenings- reading out in the gardens, swimming in the giant lake, or watching kangaroos hop around all day in the grassy fields next door.

The one scare that we’ve had while we’ve been here though was on our first night here; a bushfire 5km away. A tree had fallen on a powerline that sparked a fire and no one knew how serious the fire was or could be due to the howling winds. “If the wind blows in our direction we might be at risk, but don’t worry- the winds are blowing in the other direction,” Adrian tried to assure us. Without internet and only a home phone line, the three of us could only think of the worse case scenario of dying in a fire and felt utterly trapped. We knew there was only one road out of here. And, what would happen if the fire came in the middle of the night? After hearing horror stories from families in Healesville who witnessed horrendous events such as people running on the roads, on fire, with the blaze chasing them less than 50 meters away with no way out, we certainly did not want to risk staying. We asked Adrian if we could leave, just a few hours after arriving, if he got word that the fires were in deed headed our way and he agreed. But, once we’d see smoke over the hills it’d be too late. “If you see smoke, get into the fire shelter… there should be enough oxygen for us for 2 hours in there.”

Trying to calm our nerves, we decided to go back out into the garden and weed more until we’d get any new information. Luckily, it wasn’t too long before we got a call from the neighbor saying that he had heard the fire was under control. Big sigh of relief. With the winds blowing as hard as they were all day and night, it could’ve been a nightmare.

Melbourne in (Some) Pictures

A view of Melbourne along the Yarra River.

 

 

 

We decided to make bets at the largest casino in the southern hemisphere, the “Crown.” Annie walked away with +$6.50, I made $5, and Riley barely made profit at $0.50. Not bad for it being our first time playing the penny slots.

Watching an “Australian Open” tennis match outside its arena.

 

“Ball boys” from the Open (in pink) waiting at the tram stop. They were seen everywhere around the city.

WWOOFing in Healesville

We “WWOOFed” for a week in a small town called Healesville, about an hour and half outside of Melbourne. Here are some pictures from our stay (courtesy of Annie).

A Kookaburra sitting in an old gum tree.

 

 

 

 

“Wombat crossing” road sign warning for the next kilometer. We heard many stories of people hitting them (along with kangaroos) that had caused a lot of damage to cars, much like deer in our area.

 

 

Dominika (6) and Kinga (3) with their newest addition to the family, Thomas, the bunny.

 

 

 

Kristof at work in their restaurant, the Polish Jester. Too bad we weren’t able to get a picture of his sweet wife, Beata, who was at work cooking all night.

 

 

 

Us in the Polish Jester Cafe after we enjoyed a delicious meal.

 

 

Riley reading the girls instructions of how to make a paper dragon, one of the nights’ activities in babysitting the little bundles of energy.

 

 

 

Kristof with his girls on the ATV riding around the property. Behind them, which you can barely see, is the fence we put up.

 

 

 

 

Me with the family horse, Comet, and one of their three baby goats, Blacky.

 

 

A view of the house, if standing from the horse’s pasture (where I’m standing in the picture above).

 

 

 

 

Annie with their 13-year-old white poodle named Ebony. The name’s a little ironic I think.

 

 

 

A baby rooster asleep on Thomas the bunny. Cute… until we found out later the rooster died of something, possibly a disease that the bunny gave him. It was a sad day for everyone.

 

 

VIDEO!!!  Dominika giving Annie her fortune

Highway to Hell

After spending a quiet day in Sydney (Monday) doing nothing much else but checking internet, Skyping with our boyfriends, making meals and reading, we booked an early bus ride for Tuesday that would take us to Melbourne.

The budget company we booked with was called Firefly after hearing nothing but good reviews for. But, after waiting more than half an hour for the bus to arrive Tuesday morning and noticing that they had borrowed a Greyhound bus, we became a little skeptical of how smooth our journey would actually go.

The ride we were promised would take us 13 hours to complete with 2 meal breaks and another one to fill up with gas. But, just two hours into it an engine alarm went off (shutting it down) and so we pulled over to allow it to cool, taking at least 15 minutes. This continued to happen every now and again, putting us through the same routine of pulling over and letting the bus boil in the sizzling summer heat while trying to let it cool. Apparently the temperature outside was 43 degrees C for most of the trip (where 38C = 100F), and it was even hotter on the bus. All the while, the air conditioning was turned off for whatever mechanical reasons during our trip so the only air passing through the bus came from a tiny vent up top. It was a sauna, to say the least.

Passengers, although sweaty and miserable, started to join together in conversation (to pass time, I suppose) and so we were able to hear people’s travelling/life stories from all around the world, including Australia for most of the ride. The Swedish couple behind us were especially fun to talk to and so was the Australian woman who wished she wasn’t so scared to fly that forced her to take a bus instead.

In one of our stops, due to an overheated engine, the driver took us to a gas station for us to sit in its “air conditioned” room inside (although, we couldn’t feel the difference in temperature, inside or out). But, just after a few minutes without warning the bus driver came inside and told one person sitting down in quiet that they should get on the bus because we’re ready to go. After they got up and went out the door most people followed, but because there was no grand announcement made to everyone, once we boarded there were some empty seats and the driver had no idea. Outside the window some passengers could be seen running after and fortunately they were able to catch up. Once they were onboard, an old lady was remembered being missing and thank goodness someone ran in to find her. She had fallen asleep (probably due to minor heat exhaustion) and slowly made it back on the bus as well.

In any case though, despite it being a “highway to hell” we managed to look on the bright side of it all. We met interesting people along the way and saved a few bucks by booking with “Firefly.” We’ll just have to keep those memories close when considering the next option of booking cheap. Or we’ll look into the other option- flying.

Riley’s Blog Link

For more, or different, information about our travels check out Riley’s blog found on her website:

http://www.rileyswalkabout.com

Blue Mountains

Sunday morning we left Sydney and it’s dying heat to venture out into Blue Mountains, about a two hour train ride away, and spend two days there before returning to the city. The trip cost was reasonable we thought at $25 roundtrip and we were able to peer over the canopy of thick vegetation that stretched forever, which made it seem even more worth the trip.

Our destination was named Katoomba, a rural town nestled into the hills of the Blue Mountains known for its “hanging rocks,” waterfalls, caves, abundant wildlife, and vast amount of hiking trails within the forest. So, after we settled into our hostel (located not too far from the railway station) we took advantage of seeing some of these famous viewpoints and “bushwalked” for nearly 3 hours along windy (and mostly steep) trails. The highlight of the entire walk was a massive waterfall we stumbled across toward the end of our hike that cascaded down an entire “hanging rock” wall, a couple hundred feet tall. I’m pretty sure I remember seeing rainbows through some of the mist coming off the rock looking from below. Absolutely beautiful.

 

But, of course… knowing my luck, I did something stupid. Once I pulled out my camera from my backpack and switched it on to take one picture, a gigantic bee landed on my camera-taking hand so I let go (assuming I was wearing a wristband attached to it), and dropped it on the rocks near by feet. Because the camera lens was already at full zoom, when it hit the ground the lens was pushed back toward the camera and is now stuck that way. So now it won’t even turn on to take one picture because it can’t focus. Maybe in Melbourne I’ll have someone look at it.

Anyway, we spent last night there and returned today (catching an afternoon train ride back) after we took another hike today exploring the Blue Mountains for another 3 or 4 hours. We walked down 900 steps built into a rock face, called the “Giant Stairway,” that was absolutely death defying and walked a bit more to catch the Katoomba Scenic Railway that took us back up to the top.

Let me tell you, the Railway is probably worth a whole different story by itself but I’ll try to draw a quick picture so you get the idea. It is known as the world’s steepest railway in the world, with an incline at 52 degrees. On the way, you’re not buckled in in any way, other than making sure you hold onto the side bar for dear life, and for more than half the 2-minute ride you’re put through a dripping wet rock tunnel where you can’t see a thing, even your hand if put a few inches away from you face. An entirely petrifying experience!!

So, tonight we’re staying in a hostel in the midst of downtown Sydney so that tomorrow morning we can take an early bus from here to Melbourne (about an 11 hour ride) so that can spend a day there before starting our first WWOOF experience on a family’s organic farm outside the city. We’re all really excited!

Manly Beach

Yesterday we made it to Manly Beach, which involved taking a half hour ferry ride from Sydney’s harbor and walking 10 minutes from the terminal to get there. Supposedly this beach is one of Sydney’s most famous or well-known, which I wouldn’t doubt for crowded it was. The white beach landscape seemed to stretch for miles and it was met by clear, blue water that was too hard for us to take our eyes off of.

I think it only took 30 seconds upon arrival for Riley to be the first one in. But, after the lifeguards announced that there were jellyfish sightings seen in the water and gave a short description of the Blue Bottle’s nasty sting, Annie and I were a little reserved on the idea of just jumping right in.

But, after we quickly put the situation in perspective- we’re in Australia, we’re at a beach, it’s hot and we’re dying to go swimming- the two of us jumped in afterward. I guess we beat the odds and managed to not get stung.

The ferry ride there and back was absolutely gorgeous and certainly made the trip even more worth it, as the route took us all around the Sydney Opera House in almost a close-up 360-degree view from the water and alongside the Harbor Bridge. Coming back on our return we watched and waited as an enormous cruise ship was inching its way under the bridge that was just spectacular. Everyone on the ship could only think of it as Titanic.

Later in the night we met two British guys staying at our hostel and ended up talking to them for a couple hours, not realizing it was past “bedtime.” In April they’re planning a trip to Seattle to spend a few days, aiming to get there only a few days after our return home so I’ve volunteered myself to be their tour guide if they want one when the time comes.

It’s been weird that in all the time that Annie’s been here, she’s only talked to two people who are travelling from the States and Riley and I haven’t come across one so far. Most travelers are coming from Europe (England, Ireland, Germany, Scotland, etc), and it’s been hard to find others with our accent. In fact, when Riley ordered a cup of coffee in Sydney the barista commented on how she loved her accent! How strange for an American (from the Northwest) to get that response!

Day 2 in Sydney

Today I was woken by Annie and Riley at 9 o’clock, wondering why I wasn’t up yet. They had already explored part of town, gotten a cup of coffee and checked their email, and were waiting on me to join in. I was quick to shower and soon we were out on the city’s streets embarking on, what turned out to be, another long day’s hike all around town. We started off by finding a travel agent’s office to hear more information about the WWOOF (Working Worldwide On Organic Farms) organization that I had heard friends at home talk about. Maybe it was Jesse’s initial idea to me that I should join.

The young British man we talked to behind the desk about WWOOF was quick to make fun of our accent and expressions we used before we even had a chance to ask questions. He thought it was hilarious to make us say things like “December” and “Albuquerque,” which he got a good laugh from and couldn’t believe how nasally we sounded in our words. We did, eventually, receive good information about WWOOF and all joined for $45 each (about the price of two nights stay in a really cheap hostel). We’re hoping that we can find a family to stay with somewhere soon outside of Sydney doing work like gardening, household chores, or farm labor to get more of an authentic experience here in Australia. For only a few hours of work required a day, we’d earn ourselves free meals, a great place to stay in a family home, and we’d see/experience a lot more of the country outside major cities. So far we’ve just highlighted a couple hosts as possible places to stay, but tomorrow we’re going to try to contact them and arrange a stay.

Later in the day Annie and I left Riley alone to tour Australia’s museum on the harbor for a couple of hours because we were not ready to spend $20 just to walk around a bit and see old ships. Riley, though, was fascinated with it all.

We also stopped at an old pizzeria that Annie remembered visiting when she was here last with her family at age 14 and called it dinner at 4 o’clock.

Trio unites in Sydney!

As soon as Riley and I exited the plane and headed through customs, it became apparent that we maybe we wouldn’t easily understand Aussies in their accent. Going through the agricultural inspection I was questioned by the officer about what I was bringing into the country and clarifying information about my form; simple enough I thought. But, all things went south when he asked me if I was a surveyor all I could hear from his mouth was, “survivor.”

“Am I survivor?” I asked in return. Riley, standing behind me, could also not decipher what he was saying and just shook her head. Eventually, the officer handed me the form and I understood what he was asking. But by then a crowd of officials were standing around me probably thinking that I was unfit to travel in their country if I couldn’t even understand someone who speaks perfect English.

After he let us through customs, Riley and I could only think of one place we needed to go- the bathroom to change out of our jeans and smelly clothes. But, even asking an airport worker, “Where’s the bathroom?” proved difficult in itself. It was like they had never heard the word “bathroom” before in their life, along with synonyms like “washroom,” “restroom,” “the john,” etc. that we kept using in question. Once we found out that the Aussie’s refer to the bathroom as simply “the toilets,” and the washroom as the “powder room", the same man who we asked for directions from had only one question for us. “Do you have a towel?” He probably guessed we hadn’t showed in a week from how we looked.

We were able to catch a shuttle from the airport to our hostel, with only minor inconveniences along the way, and when we arrived Annie was right there screaming with excitement and holding her arms wide. With emotions running high, it didn’t take us long to settle into place and head out into the town, using Annie as the city’s tour guide. After 5 days spending Sydney on her own, Annie certainly had a bearing for where we were at all times and how to quickly get from one touristy place to another around town. I think we spent somewhere close to 7 hours walking around hitting up places such as the Opera House and the Harbor Bridge, before our feet had had enough and showed signs of blisters.

One thing that we found out really quick about the Australian culture is that people here are sooo nice; maybe too nice. Anytime we pulled out a map (only to open it for 30 seconds), we were swarmed by Aussie’s interested in directing us where to go or wondering how they could help. One time when we told a man where we were headed, he turned around in the opposite direction he was going and walked with us nearly five blocks just to make sure we’d make it there. And, when Riley and I bought beach towels at a grocery store the cashier held up the long line for at least 5 minutes to tell us what beaches she’d recommend we walk or swim at, the best way to get there, where buses depart, and even took the time to draw us a map to help us on our way. I’m near positive that would never happen in the States.

Dramamine solves everything

Landing in L.A., Riley and I were anxious to figure out how we’d get to our connecting flight after hearing scary rumors from family and friends about difficulties navigating the airport. Turns out, they were all right in some respect. As soon as we exited the plane there were no signs anywhere and hardly anyone to ask where to go. Eventually, we asked a teller where our next flight would be departing from and he could only tell us to wait by some emergency door and maybe a shuttle would take us there. “Was he new?” I wondered, “Or, are the employees here always just as confused as their passengers?”

Once the doors did open, we were led down a long staircase outside the terminal gate and onto a bus where the young bus driver told us with a huge smile that he wasn’t going to Delta. Assuming he was joking we boarded anyway and held the seat tight as he drove swiftly around the tarmac, winding in and out of the runway paths of moving planes. Eventually, he did drop us off at Delta.

To kill time, Riley and I sat in a Mexican “bar” at the airport and ate, what later turned out to be the worst decision made for those seated around us for 14 hours, two huge burritos. And, we managed to watch a few episodes of Freaks and Geeks on her laptop. With 2 hours left before boarding, a kind worker who had been observing us from her desk perch all the hours we had been sitting there, gave us warmed chocolate chip cookies fresh off the last plane’s arrival. How nice- a cookie and a Dramamine to put me at ease.

The plane ride from L.A. to Sydney should’ve taken us 14 hours, but because just moments before departure from the gate a passenger not too many seats away from me started a nose bleed, it took longer. Instead of flight attendants handing him a tissue and saying, “Deal with it,” they called in the airport fire department’s EMT to assess the situation, and due to security reasons his checked bag had to be removed from the plane and re-scanned before he could board the plane again. This took a full hour to complete, which pushed us close to a midnight departure.

At 1:30am dinner was served; something that resembled chicken and potato mash swimming in butter. Behind me, I heard Riley ordering a glass of Chardonnay and wondered where mine went, or how I missed the message that I could order a fancy drink for free.

Somehow I fell asleep between then and 6:30am when our “snack” meal was served- stale foccosia bread slices with tomato and basil. And, only a few hours later breakfast was served at 12:30pm (Seattle time)- old eggs with a slice of dried, salty ham (probably left over from someone’s Thanksgiving). It seemed every time I woke food was placed in front of me, whether it’d be for better or worse. Thank you Dramamine, sleep eye-mask, and ear plugs for making 15 hours seem more like 5.

Give me a teddybear

I wouldn’t consider myself a pleasant person to fly with- not because I’m that kid on the plane who has to scream or kick on the back of the seat in from them, but- because I worry about the little things. “If our flight’s at 2:15, we should be there by noon,” I told Jesse and Riley last night before going to bed, “Or even a little bit before then would be fine.” What I really should’ve said was, “We’re getting there as soon as I wake up.”

I don’t know where this comes from or if I have anxiety issues all together, but I have a feeling my sister would probably laugh and say I got it from my mother. “You’re just like her,” she always says. And, this morning I finally heard it.

Jesse dropped Riley and me off at Sea-Tac airport with, let’s just say, plenty of time to twiddle our thumbs before our plane would take off. I checked I had my boarding ticket, passport, and carry-on I don’t know how many times, just to reassure myself I hadn’t lost it in 10 minutes of sitting. All the while, the television at the gate showed President Obama and his reaction to last week’s terrorist attempt on a plane. Great- just what I want to hear before boarding a plane. I turned to Riley, interrupting her reading her book, and commented on the fact that they’re still working to prevent similar incidents from occurring in the future. I’m thinking- I’m about to board a plane and you can’t tell me that everyone around me has been properly questioned and searched?

Anyway, I took some Dramamine and clenched my fingers for two and a half hours from Seattle to L.A., while Riley sat next to me commenting on how she likes turbulence and the distant landscape below. Please.

Can I have some vodka on the rocks, Miss? And a teddybear to hug? Just let me know when I’m there.