Pony Up, Boys!

I love hanging out with the boys. I can always count on a lot of laughs and learning something I didn't know previously. It is typically useless information but you never know when it might come in handy. 

So we are at a new restaurant [Pony's] around the corner from the office - Bethany, Martin, Shane, Phillip, John, Tim, and I - and we are having an adult beverage and munching on some entrées (Aussie version of appetizers) when an older couple walks in. Martin eyes them as they go to their table and states "They are American!" Bethany and I look at him incredulous and asked "how do you know?" His response was typical for a Brit "why because of they way they are dressed!" The elderly couple were dressed, dare I say, a little "loudly." He also insisted he heard them talking and definitely heard the accent of a Yank. After much ribbing, Martin decided he had to prove his point so he marched over to the table, leaned over and started chatting with the alleged tacky Americans. After several minutes, our conversation changed to a new topic whilst Martin was still talking away to his new friends. Martin eventually returned to his seat and announced "Well, I just made an ass of myself!" We all laughed and asked "do tell!" As it turns out the the couple was from Adelaide (South Australia). Bethany told him "wow, I would have kept that to myself." Meaning, no one in the right mind would admit to such a mistake. Then she turned and looked at me and said "except you." Sigh. Unfortunately, she is right. I do tend to tell on myself.

Maybe you had to be there but we found it hysterical that the British guy thought this couple was American because of the way they were dressed. We enjoyed making fun of Martin during the rest of the meal. Tim, Shane and John said they wouldn't expect anything less from a "palm." We haven't figured out exactly what that means yet. [Note to self: find out!]


As luck would have it, it started to drizzle, then pour as we were leaving. I reach in my bag and no umbrella. Shoot! It was a mad dash from awning to awning as we made our way to Military Road to hail a taxi. Tim, ever the gallant gentleman, stood in the rain to flag one down. Bethany and I made our way to the Four Seasons for a pre-dinner cocktail. 


Dinner was at a restaurant called Wild Fire at the Overseas Passenger Terminal. We enjoyed a great view of the Opera House and Circular Quay as we toasted our last evening in Sydney (well, hers anyway). Not surprising, there are things brewing that will certainly have me back down under in the next few months.

The Last Train to Clarksville

Last Tram Ride (If Only It Would Come)

Or more like the Australian version "The Last Tram to St Kilda"... this is the song going through my mind as I boarded the tram one last time to head for my former home, The Blackman. After spending the majority of the past ten months in Melbourne, I was suddenly struck that I wouldn't be doing this again anytime soon. I wouldn't be heading to my Gloria Jeans to grab my morning Voltage nor would I hop the tram to do my grocery shopping at Wooly's (Woolworths). Wow, I really wasn't prepared for the 'last' time. In fact, I almost jumped in a taxi rather than walk the four blocks to the tram that would take me down St Kilda Road. Strange how you can do something day in and day out without a thought until the last time. I will miss riding the trams of Melbourne. Such an inexpensive and fast way to get about. Definitely less stressful than driving and my use of colourful language has been reduced greatly as a result.


In addition, I had to bid farewell to my mates at Gloria Jeans St Kilda Road. A young Indian couple bought the franchise when I first arrived and only recently was able to bring their daughter from India to join them. When I was home, I would walk the 2 blocks for my morning brekkie and a friendly chat. 


I guess what they say is true, all good things must come to an end. I've enjoyed my time in Melbourne and consider it my second home (after Washington of course). Sad to say, I've never considered Reno home; only a place I've lived. 

Last Sunrise at Melbourne Domestic

So I boarded my last Qantas domestic flight to Sydney. I will also miss the ease of travel within Australia. You need about 30 minutes to check in and go through security. Of course, they haven't had anything bad happen so they only do the bare minimum of security. You remove your laptop, walk through a metal detector and scan your belongs. That's it. No removing shoes, liquids, coats, etc. You don't even have to show identification. Can't even tell you how many times I flew around Australia without any ID (not very wise at any rate but nevertheless I didn't give it a second thought). A quick hour and 5 minutes and you are landing at Sydney Kingsford-Smith, usually the farthest runway but the view is spectacular as you fly over the world famous Bondi (Bon-dye) Beach and the CBD. It is just as painless to get retrieve your bags although the queue for the taxi is typically long. One just has to remember where you are.


There are few things that I won't miss about Australia... like getting body slammed by those who aren't paying attention. I have been to a lot of places but never experienced the lack of courtesy when it comes to having people run into you, smoking, holding the door open, etc. Don't get me wrong, the Aussies are a friendly bunch and are very helpful when needed. Just don't expect a 'please,' 'thank you,' or 'excuse me.' It just ain't going to happen. Alas, the bubble has burst and I do know that even though the Aussie accent rocks, they are human like the rest of us. But it is comforting just the same. Americans aren't quite as ugly as others would have us believe. For all our faults, we are generally have better manners. 

Feels Like Home to Me

Expectations are funny things. As human beings, we have expectations for absolutely everything. Good, bad or indifferent, we 'expect' things to be a certain way. I was full of expectations for my [last?] trip down under. Me, I usually expect the worst, kinda a glass half empty kinda gal. So sue me. Someone has to make the happy go-lucky glass is half full people look good. Right? Right! That person would be me.

As I left home on Thursday, I expected something to go wrong. After all, there was 36 hours of travel time. No way I was going to get here without a hitch.

Leg 1: Reno to Los Angeles. Exit row, no one next to me. Took off on time, landed on time. Check.

Hello? Anybody here?

Leg 2: Los Angeles to Auckland. Well to be fair, I did have a 9.5 layover but didn't think much about anything going particularly wrong so expectations for this leg was it would be long and likely boring. Reality? Landed at terminal 8, needed to be at terminal 2. I decided it was a lovely day for a walk. Sunny and 79 was heavenly. Walked into the terminal and down to Air New Zealand. Ah-ha! The counter isn't open yet. (This I was expecting. I knew that United couldn't print the boarding passes and I assumed it would be closed when I arrived.) Not a big deal. Stood in line, plugged in the iPhone for awhile and chatted. The hour flew by. Then breezed through security (thanks to having status with United). Next stop lunch. And then it happened. My bubble burst. My good day gone bad. As I was talking to my sister, I grabbed my bag to go to the lounge on the second level. First, I drop my phone (the iPhone just isn't good for the shoulder/neck hold, it's too slippery). As it goes flying, I grab my bag and it doesn't quite feel right and sure enough, my laptop drops out onto the tiled floor with a distinct thud. Oh great. Not thinking, I drop my small backpack and realize my iPad is in it as it drops to the floor with a smack. Ugh (although honestly, that was not what came out of my mouth)! Fortunately for me, all electronics functioned normally despite my best efforts to break something. Fast forward 7 hours and waiting for boarding to begin. Waiting, waiting, waiting. 30 minutes after the process should have started and 30 minutes before take-off. No movement. No announcements. No nothing. Finally it comes. The moment all travelers dread. "We regret to inform you"... and my mind goes numb. After 9 hours I am not leaving. You see, there was a light on.  The mechanic cleared it quickly but unfortunately, the crew had to "stand down." What does that mean exactly? I'll tell you exactly what it means. It means they are not at the airport. They are back at the hotel chilling. Which means, now that the mechanic turned the light off, the crew can now commence the journey to LAX. Great. Surely they are like, next door to the numerous properties adjacent to the airport. One would think. However, you would be wrong. WRONG! No, they were in some Podunk suburb that I can't be bothered to remember but I do know that it took over an hour to arrive at the airport and another 30 for them to clear security. Oh, they tried to tell the weary gate agents (who were busy explaining over and over what was going on and took a lot, and I mean a lot, of grief from frustrated passengers) that they tried to clear security quickly but had to stay in line. REALLY? They have their own special line and I have watched crews countless times go to the front of the line (as it should be). No sense of urgency as I am watching the precious minutes of my 2.5 hours layover dwindle down to less than an hour. Take your time, I don't mind missing my connection in Auckland and then again in Sydney. Two hours later, we are finally on our way. Check.

Leg 3: Auckland to Sydney. I was in Auckland 36 minutes. This was wheels hitting the tarmac to wheels up. Whew! Naturally, my connection was as far apart as possible. I was first off the plane and on my way to security. Now this bugs me. I just got off a flight. Exactly what are you looking for? I never left the secured area. Do you think that I managed to construct a bomb or pick up a gun? Then some wannabe cop decides that I look like a threat to New Zealand and pulls me aside for additional screening, including explosive testing. Again, how and where would I get a bomb? I just got off one of YOUR namesake flights. Are you implying your own security is that bad? Worst of all, she then told me I'd better hurry or I would miss my flight. Thanks for the tip, captain obvious. I hightailed it to the gate, walked on the plane and they shut the door behind me. Check.

Approach into Auckland

Leg 4: Sydney to Melbourne. Ah, the leg that would finally get me where I needed to be. But first, I had the dreaded immigration and customs. After my last experience I was dreading it. I was expecting the worst and hoping for the best. Well, my usual mentality totally failed me. YEAH! The glass was indeed half full! I walk off the plane, and with my express pass in hand, I smugly walk past the crowds to immigration. Alas, the room is empty. No express pass needed. I put on a big smile walk forward and hand over my entry card and passport. The guy scans my passport, stamps it and tells me to have a good day. Insert enormous sigh here. WHEW! I walk down the stairs to wait for my bag and a customs officer walks over and asks for my passport and entry card. I had them over and she quizzes me about food. Do you have any food, she asks. No, I reply (trust me I learned this lesson a long time ago). Any fruit? No. (Isn't fruit a food? Didn't I just say No? Is this a test?) Any meats? No. Nuts? No. Plant material? No. Any shoes with dirt on them? No. Visit any farms lately? Why, no. I am a city girl, not a farm girl. She just looks at me. For a moment I forgot, no jokes with anyone who works for a government. My bad.  Finally she seems satisfied and stamps my card and hands it back to me. Amazingly, I got my bag (it was the 3rd one offloaded) and I made my way through customs. This time, I got to skip the x-ray part and the dog humping part! WOOT! 

Freedom! I proceed to Qantas domestic to re-check my bag. Easy, peasy. Then the agent asks if I want an earlier flight. Heck yeah! All this took place in less than 40 minutes. Next stop: Gloria Jeans. Check.

So what was I expecting when I touched down in Melbourne? I was expecting to feel surreal, like I was living someone else's life. But all I felt was the feeling of being home. The same feeling when I land in Portland or Seattle. I think it is official. I can no longer separate 'home' in the states from 'home' in Australia. Other than the long commute, it feels like home to me.