Our Pre-Trip Thoughts

Teen

Bitumen

As much as I am yearning to venture overseas, I am somewhat fearful of what has happened on previous occasions. Sure I am not unfamiliar to lengthy trips in the car. School holidays to the Mornington Peninsula as a child, which in those days took the better half of a day to get there. Lack of infrastructure and straight roads. You'd swear you were in Tasmania! I wouldn't change those memories for anything. It was a great time at a safer and slower pace.

I remember getting car sick on the windy road (many times) between Kinglake and Hurstbridge, north of Melbourne. It is rather ironic as in recent years I have become accustomed to feeling squeamish while travelling in the back seat once again. But this time without the colour and the inconvenience to our visitors at the other end. I would love to travel that road again and laugh as I go around each bend from the safety of the front seat!

Nicko and I headed south one Boxing Day a few years ago to escape Brisbane's oppressive heat. We left when it was 38 degrees and travelled through the cool of the night. Our first day in Melbourne it was 35 degrees! Pointless exercise really, but it was, after all, humidity free.

The first trip around Australia with Nicko was a good one. Although we spent long days in the car, we had a comfortable and reliable one. The second trip was a bit more stressful. The rough roads and shear weight we needed for all our off road gear. We'll never forget the dust seeping into the car cabin in remote Western Australia. It was a timeless experience and remnants can still be found in our 4WD today, four years later.

Gait

I'll never have to worry about having a flat chest or no bum to sit on. Currently I'm coming off another one of my weight loss attempts, although not as successful as the last one. I am petrified of gaining it all back on this trip and then some if I haven't already.

The thought of Waffles and Croissants for breakfast every morning sounds wonderful if I was at least 10kgs lighter. Then, frankly I wouldn't really care. But how can waffles be enjoyed without decent coffee?
Knowing Tasmania is behind the rest of the world, I still find it hard to understand there are many cafe/restaurateurs who don't know what a latte is even though they have it on their menu. I don 't know how to make one either but that is beside the point. God help me in America where they can't even make a standard coffee taste reasonable.
I'm not even a big coffee drinker, I prefer a strong cup of tea to coffee. After becoming an espresso coffee addict (two pot screamer) and was forced to drink standard coffee while away one long weekend I could not go back to the dark stuff.

I am partial to a glass of bubbly like the next person during the festive season. I wouldn't dare mention the $250 bottle I spilt over Christmas dinner in Sydney in a packed 5-star restaurant. Thank goodness I'd had a bit to drink before hand and my dignity remained intact. Thankfully I was in a room full of strangers that didn't care to notice or even look up. Something that would never happen in a small country town.

Hopefully the single suitcase of clothes I pack for this trip will still manage to fit me in ten months time. All going well when I turn 30 at the end of this trip I can also manage to fit into the plane seats for the long journey home. Wish me luck..
 

Our Pre-Trip Thoughts

Nicko

Cuisine

Anyone who knows us can vouch for the fact that we enjoy good food and wine. Not the really strange stuff like duck's testicles or something like that, but good edible food. I think our restaurant tours-of-duty have honed our epicurean talents to expect more from the food we eat. We rarely eat out these days but when we do, we don't head for the old Golden Arches or its equivalent. Now it's Subway or something that can proudly say their food is less than a week old. Although I did procure some Hungry Jack's the other night and now know why Jack is still Hungry after all this time.

The edible delights we are expecting to encounter on this trip of ours is quite varied to say the least. The piss poor coffee of the United States is something (I've been told) you have to chew to believe. I'm sure we'll be test-driving the New Zealand Hangi at one stage or another and that is fine by me. I'm very much into trying new and exotic foods. Why, just the other day, I bought some Edgell vegetables in a can.

There'll be the usual suspects that need to be tasted in the countries we're going to:
Fish and chips in England - you haven't eaten haddock unless it's been wrapped in The Times.
Pizza in Italy - will 'Ham and Pineapple' translate correctly?
Croissants in France -  the only French word we'll know with certainty.
Black Pudding in England - it goes remarkably well with everything on your breakfast plate. And comes up remarkably well on everything on your lunch plate.
Escargot in France - we'll probably skip. Let's face it, if I wanted to eat snails, I would have picked a few out of the garden and added eleven secret herbs and spices.

All in all, it should be an enjoyable (if slightly different) experience... you know, I could go a nice plate of duck's testicles right now.

Holidays

What exactly is the point of having a holiday?
To relax? I've never been more relaxed in my life when my luggage landed in a different airport than I did.
To become more knowledgeable in the ways of the world? Like catching a train in a different country really broadens your horizons.
To see the world? I can see the world on television. It saves me money and the chance of catching a communicable disease.
To go to places you've never been before? I haven't been to the proctologists before, but you don't see me booking a ticket and sending postcards from there, do you?

A holiday (or vacation for our northern friends) is a scam. You've been conned by some marketing executive to spend your hard-earned dollars on a package where you'll end up next to the smelly fat person on the plane, a honeymooning couple who should be in the Olympics for their stamina will be next door in the hotel and a seedy looking man called Manuel will be your tour guide as he drives you around in an air-conditioned vehicle (it's actually a Toyota Cressida with all the windows down) to see the sights specially chosen by some dumb person who's never been there.  Two weeks later you return with souvenirs of a place you'll never want to go to again, and tell all your friends that it was fantastic and they should go next year. (You didn't like them that much anyway).

No, the point of having a holiday is simple. It's about waiting.
Waiting to check-in.
Waiting to go through Customs and Quarantine.
Waiting in the transit lounge.
Waiting on the plane while they show you how to put on your life jacket. (There's always a chance you'll survive as the plane plummets into the mountains.)
Waiting for the realisation that the life jacket isn't going to help at all.
Waiting for the airport transfer that's not coming because it's Tuesday - they always have Tuesday off.
Waiting at the hotel as you try to translate your surname from English to American.
(The list continues for about half an hour.)

But, I hear you ask, why are we going on our trip? Because we want to. Deep down we... sorry, I am a really boring person and the waiting thing sounds like fun to me. Oh sure, I'll see the Eiffel Tower and the Grand Canyon. Europe in winter and the ruggedness of the New Zealand wilderness. Big deal. I'm in it for the waiting around. That sounds like the one for me.