Honey, I'm home!

Warning: Not responsible for eye bleeds or bumps on the head when your head hits the counter because this one is rather long winded... Read with caution!


This morning when my alarm went off at 5am ("I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind...there was something so pleasant about that place") and was thinking I was "Crazy" (name of the song that is my alarm) for booking an early flight. (Yes, I'm feeling a little punchy this evening but you'll see why soon.) Oh well, not a lot can be done to change that so I sucked it up and jumped in the shower. I am ready early and decide I might as well head over to the airport. After checking out, I walked out of the hotel and the bellman is no where to be found. There is, however, a driver with a cubby (Australian for van) waiting outside. He immediately leapt on me and tried to take my suitcase. He kept saying (in broken English) "I go to airport after a few stops"... meanwhile I'm thinking about the warning signs at the airports that say to not accept rides from anyone other than a certified driver and taxi company, but he does have a sign on his vehicle and it is only $14 and then I start thinking my flight is at 7:30 and getting to the airport at 6:30 might be cutting it close (which turned out to be a preminition, more on that later).... then I started thinking about coffee, and should I eat breakfast on the muffin or stick with the cereal on the flight, and oh yeah, I need to remind Erin about using Green on the CS Coaching materials, and I should have left out a sweatshirt because I'm bound to get cold on the plane, and I still need to book my Great Ocean Road tour, and I wonder what the weather will be next Saturday, and I'd better remember to wear sun block, and that reminded me I had gift cards to Legends to use and I needed to go to Bath and Body Works, and then I couldn't remember if I put my gum in my backpack or my suitcase, and I hoped my cookies didn't get smashed, and I should do laundry when I get to Melbourne, and then tried to remember if I actually brought fabric softner, and speaking of fabric softner my lease is up in May and I should decide if I want to move or not and if I stay, I need to have some paint touched up and get my carpet cleaned again, and I need to remember to pick up the Mary Poppins tickets, and then the song "A Spoonful of Sugar" starts playing in my head... and YES, the guy is still trying to load my bags and I had to stop and think for a minute... what was going on?? That's right... do I go with the potential serial killer who smelled funny or do I get in a silver taxi that I know is legit? (Obviously, I went for the legit or I wouldn't be blogging!)


As I was saying, I arrived at the airport with plenty of time to spare. What is cool about Australia and Qantas is the whole check-in process is completely automated (or so I thought). I went to the kiosk to officially check-in my bag since I checked in the day before per usual (important because Qantas does not let you select a seat. They assign a seat and 24 hours before your flight you can change it (providing there are still seats available). ANYHOOT, I thought I was smart and weighed my bag before actually checking it it. 28 kg... perfect, I'm under the 30. So I merrily slap on the bag tag (which is trickier than one might think but this was not my first rodeo). I then go to the bag checker thingy and throw my bag on the belt (yeah, right! I heaved it up very gingerly) and scan my boarding card. WARNING! Red light goes off and tells me my bag is 28 kg and would I like to pay the $50 on credit card. WHAT?? Of course, I should of read the fine print (okay so it was in red and not exactly 'fine' print but still) that business gets 30 and steerage people get only 23. Oops! Fine, I expense it anyway so whatever. I wait and the bag doesn't go anywhere so I grab it and look for some help. A kind woman from Qantas told me you pay at the kiosk, okay duh. Again, Murphy at play here and I could not figure out how to do anything other than reprint a bag tag (this caused issues later on). I had to go back and ask again and after some eye rolling because I was suppose to leave my bag on the belt she marched me back over only to find out that, indeed, the bag would not go (vindication for once). Yikes, this is turning into a novel and I haven't gotten to the really good parts of my day. Let's just say I saw the downside of self-service baggage check-in. At least security is easy... take out your laptop and done. Coffee. Muffin. Book store. New book "The No Asshole Rule" (yes, I downloaded 8 books on my Kindle before coming to Oz but I could not resist this one).


Arrival in Melbourne (always a joy to land here as it is very much like Reno and you can count on some great bumps). Hop, skip and a jump, gate 1 to carousel 1 and here come the bags. Only not the bags from my flight. No worries. An hour later. Still no bags. Oh, other flights have come and gone (three to be exact) but no QF413 from Sydney. I had walked down to the baggage service (along with 20 other people) as the lady was trying to explain to someone that the bags weren't delivered. "Oh yeah? Well you can come up to the desk and see all the people who are still waiting?" Guess she told him because she hung up and said that the bags were forgotten on the plane but would be arriving soon so go back to carousel 1. Really, how do you 'forget' to upload luggage? That is a new one! Eventually they did come out... on carousel 4. In the meantime, the car service called three times to make sure I was okay. At least someone was looking out for me. The pick up for is up on the first level at Qantas International First Class which meant trudging up the escalator with multiple bags (the beast, a roller bag and dreaded back pack). As I was going up, the woman in front of me turned and about knocked me over as she stepped down a few steps. I was barely holding on as my big bag was slipping off the step and my other bag had fallen over. I'm holding my breath to get to the top without making a spectacle of myself and had just let my breath out when this dumb woman stops at the top and I fall over myself and my bags. Then she proceeds to give me a dirty look. REALLY? I just told her that she could consider me a 'rude' American as I was obviously at the wrong place at the wrong time. 


By now I am feeling the pain of my 5am wake up call and just want to veg in the back of my charcoal Holden but once again, I get a gabby driver who wants to know my life story. Sigh. I gave him the abridged version since he didn't give up easily.


It was nice to arrive at The Blackman, where I once called home. My favourite employee, Ashley, was working and immediately said she would find me a better apartment. They needed 30 minutes to get it ready so I headed to Gloria Jeans and again was welcomed by my friends who own the franchise. So nice to be home in Australia! I did get a great room with a view and proceeded to get settled. I decided to do a little laundry, which was an exercise in patience as all things are with me. I was on the 14th floor and the closest washer/dryer is upstairs on the 16th. Because I hate lifts, I decide to use the stairs. I'm not sure why but I went down 2 floors every time instead of up. The good news is I got quite a workout but the bad news is I was continually frustrated by going the wrong direction (this is generally how I live my life so one would think I would be used to it by now. I'm not.).


Since Denise was in town we decided to meet up for dinner. Another thing I love about Melbourne is the tram system. It is so easy to walk out the door and hop on the train. It was a tad crowded since it was after 5 but still my preferred travel method in the city. We decided just to walk until we happened upon a place we wanted to eat. We found an Italian outdoor cafe that wasn't crowded and had a good view of the pedestrian area for people watching. As it turns out, it was also going to be next to the water. After eating, the light sprinkle turned into a torrential downpour and you get what they mean when they say "it's raining cats and dogs." As it turns out, it is part of the cyclone Yasi that hit Queensland two days ago. When it appeared to lighten up, Denise and I parted ways (she has an early flight to Sydney tomorrow) and I was just plain tired. I chuckled as I watched all the people out and about without an umbrella and even thought it was funnier when a couple, thoroughly drenched, jumped on the tram and then worried about getting "soaked by the wet seat." They were both literally dripping. I was pretty sure they would get the seat wetter than the other way around but we are in the Southern hemisphere where everything is backwards so maybe it does work that way. By the time I got back to the hotel, it had turned into a flash flood and I had to wade through 12 inches of water on the roadway to make it back to the hotel. It was strange to have water lapping at the sides of the sidewalk sounding like the beach. By then my feet were soaked but I still jumped every time the water came close to me. Instinct, I suppose.


So the rest of my days don't need to be this exciting. Hopefully, Murphy will give me a break since he was all over me today. See, I told you I was feeling a little punchy... we all know how this is going to turn out. Guess I should just go to bed. 

Here we go again...

Less than 48 hours into my return I'm convinced I never left. Maybe it was a dream [being home] or maybe not as I did manage to have fun Sunday. Yes, you heard [read] right... I had fun. The 'no work, didn't even think about work kind of fun' fun. Susan (a MH colleague) recommended we go to the Annie Leibovitz photo exhibit at the Sydney Museum of Contemporary Art and a visit to Doyles at Watsons Bay. The exhibit was just okay, too many depressing photos. For someone who photographs babies, she has a dark, depressing side as well. After an hour or so of browsing, we headed over to the ferry at Circular Quay ("key"). As usual, there was a lot of activity, including a man dancing with a mannequin. It takes all kinds, I suppose. I was strangely enamored by the MS Volendam, a Holland America cruise line that I spent two weeks touring New Zealand, Tasmania ultimately ending in Sydney in 2009.  I took about a dozen pictures (not that I already didn't have at least that many) but none in Circular Quay.  When we sailed into Sydney we were docked at Darling Harbour. It did bring back a lot of great memories of my last real holiday. We bought our tickets and some water while we waited. Once the ferry arrived and we headed upstairs for a great view of the bridge and Opera House. Because it was a smaller boat that made quick turns, you were not allowed to stand upstairs. If there were no seats, you were instructed to stay downstairs. Of course, that didn't stop people from coming upstairs and standing. They had an employee who constantly had to advise those who could not (or would not) read the sign that they had to have a seat or stay downstairs. My favorites are the ones who pretend not to understand him but spoke perfectly fine English before he arrived. It's all in the look... the "no comprehend" look that a child gives you when you tell them they cannot have ice cream for dinner or play on the computer after bedtime. I myself have never played that game. No, really. I haven't. Recently anyway. Well, depends on what you mean by recent. It is a green word, after all. Once again, I digress...

After a quick 30 minutes we reached Watsons Bay and Doyles. By then I was sufficiently hungry (my coffee and muffin had long worn off) so I was ready for a good lunch. Established in 1885, the restaurant is right on the beach and offers a spectacular view of Sydney. The menu offered a wide variety of seafood. Even the fish and chips had 5 selections of fish to choose from. I ended up having the grilled Tasmanian salmon with apple and pear chutney and Susan had barramundi, a local favorite and oysters. I also indulged in an adult beverage as we sat on the patio watching plates of lobster and crabs go by. The food was terrific (good thing as it was spendy) and I will definitely go back before I head home. Next time I'm thinking dinner at sunset. 


Afterwards, we walked through Robertsons Park and out over the cliffs of the entrance to Botany Bay, a perfect vantage point for protecting the colony back in the day (although I'm not sure why convicts needed protection as they were the first inhabitants of this country). After exploring the area, we headed back to the ferry to return to the city. By then I realised I hadn't applied my sun block very well as a splotchy sunburn started to appear. I bought a hat but it was too little, too late. All in all, it was a great way to spend a Sunday in the city. A truly gorgeous day (sunburn and all) and knowing it was snowing back at home made it that much more enjoyable. 


But alas, all fun must eventually come to an end as I realised this morning when I woke up at 5am knowing it was a work day. At least I kept another promise to myself and managed 45 minutes of cardio. Last time around, not only did I not have fun, I didn't even manage to keep up with my workout schedule. I made a promise to myself that I would not let that happen again (besides, I hate tight clothes). I left the Four Points and walked the six blocks to Saxtons on Kent Street with a side detour at the Wynard train station to get my coffee. As soon as I walked into the bowels of the train station, I realised I never left. There is a steamy feeling as you enter the tunnel that does down into the station and as usual, I'm fighting my way upstream as the masses exit the station. I know this place and after going down the stairs two rights and a left and there it is... Gloria Jeans. The guy immediately recognized me and said 'the usual?' He also wanted to know where I've been. He looked at me strange when I said 'home' because he thought I was an Aussie and I was already 'home.' I suppose in some sense home is where you are, so I am, indeed, 'home'... for now. 

Welcome to Australia... When Are You Leaving?

And I'm back. And apparently, my arrival was an international incident. And not because I brought granola or popcorn (trust me, that lesson was learned the hard way). But can you imagine, that little ol' me caused a red flag to go off as I [tried to] gain entry into this fine country. But let's back up the plane...

As many of you know, my enthusiasm was somewhat subdued this time around. Don't get me wrong, I love Australia but I was just getting used to being home and sleeping in my bed so I wasn't quite ready to give that all up. But, then again, it is summer here so... okay, I'm convinced. Or I thought I was until I realized it involved packing. Again. Packing is a lot like dessert. You think you want it until you realize that in theory, dessert is awesome but the reality is you will eventually regret the decision. It means you get to satisfy your sweet tooth and indulge in something sinful like chocolate cake. So I'm thinking I'm going to Australia. Summer. Fun. Then it is "oh yeah" I'm going back for work. So what does that mean? How much business attire do I really need? Then it is about the shoes. Then it is about hoodies and sweaters (and yes, I do have over 100 sweaters, hoodies, and sweatshirts). And what about a purse? Do I bring one? Should it be black or brown? So it's about the decisions you are forced to make. And like dessert, you are usually regretting it by the end when you realize you should have made a different decision but it's too late, the damage is done. When you get to your destination there is no going back. Those pants you decided you didn't need, you figure out it was the perfect pair of pants and all you can think is 'why did I leave them at home when I really, really need them.' Yeah. You get it. I'm right, packing sucks!

Eventually you are forced to figure it out so I came up with a brilliant packing plan Wednesday night. The jury is still out on that one so time will tell if my packing plan works. I wanted to bring the smaller suitcase but couldn't get away from the steamer truck (figuratively of course, but it is a back breaker). I head out the door at 12:30 sharp. In a mere 25 hours I'll be in Sydney and it will be all so worth it. Yeah, no. 

View from lavatory

Fast forward through 3 flights, 2 layovers, 3 meals, 4 movies, 6 sitcoms, a lot of extra bumpy turbulence, a lavatory with a window,  non-toxic insecticide, and wha-la I'm now in Australia. As you walk off the plane, you are greeted by large signs welcoming you 'Down Under.' For me, this was not the case. As luck would have it, I am first in line at immigration. I smile warmly at the Sheila (female version of a bloke) and hand her my entrance card and passport. She looks at it and asks how long I'm staying. Five weeks I reply. Why are you here? Business. (Trust me, this was all on the card so I wasn't sure if she couldn't read or was trying to trick me.) Soon, I knew the answer. I was asked to go with an immigration officer who simply said "follow me." This, to me, was asking for trouble. I jokingly said "are you sure you don't want Murphy instead of me?" But alas, she had no sense of humor. Soon I was sitting in a room with a young man who interrogated me on my reason for coming to Australia. I patiently (oh, I know what you are thinking but trust me, I was very patient for an impatient person. I did realize this wasn't the time or place to get testy.) So after explaining why I was back in the country and some reassurance that I indeed had a return flight back to the states (he asked me to prove it) it was decided I could stay for my five weeks. Lucky me! 

Happily, I went and got my luggage trolley to retrieve my bags. Only I had no bags to retrieve. Can't say I was all that surprised as the newbie who checked my bags in Reno didn't inspire much confidence when she tried to tell me that Air Canada did not fly to Australia OR Sydney (I briefly toyed with the idea with telling her that Sydney was IN Australia but I figured it would be too much information for one day). It was with a sense of dread I waved goodbye to my 2 bags, unsure if I would truly see them down under. Turns out, I was right. But again, they some how managed to get them to me so my next task was to got through customs. By now there are several international flights and I'm like the salmon swimming upstream as I try to get to the express lane for first and business class travelers. The very kind lady directed me to lane one then decided to send me to lane 2. WARNING. You don't want to be in lane 2. It's a trap, Luke, it's a trap! (If you are wondering where that line is from, it's Princess Leia yelling at Luke Skywalker in Empire Strikes Back when he gets to Cloud City to rescue her and his other friends only to find out that Darth Vader [aka daddy] set a trap to encase him in carbonite so the evil emperor can convince him to turn to the dark side and... where was I? Oh yes... quarantine). SO as I was saying, the bitch decided to mess with me again (she was obviously in cahoots with Murphy) and sent me into an abyss with a bunch of non-English speaking Asians. Long story, short it was another lesson in patience that I did not pass). Whatever.

AND THEN I get the chatty cabby who wants to talk American politics. Seriously, Punjabi? I'm really not in the mood. And before you think I'm making some racial slur, that really was his name. Really. It's just not a subject a cranky American wants to discuss after a 15 hour flight and 1.5 hour endurance run through immigration and customs. So no offense, but I don't want to take about the president, the economy, casinos, or any other subject. I just want to get coffeed up and relax at the hotel.

And there you have it. My first three hours in Australia. This trip is going to be f-u-n FUN! I just have that feeling. So now if I call you and need to borrow some money to make bail you'll understand why. Thanks, Murphy. 

And the Boom-a-rang Returns...

In just over 48 hours I'll begin the long trek back to a land Down Unda... So instead of packing, I sit here playing Angry Birds, downloading books from Amazon to read on my Kindle (well, really my iPad) and just about anything other than what I should be doing. Go figure (like that never happens). I just hate packing. Love traveling, hate packing. Did I say hate? I meant loath.

So anyway, I'm headed back to Australia. This time for five weeks. And I have a plan. It will not be all about work. It will be about making up for lost time. It will be about having fun and checking off a few items on the bucket list. Like Philips Island and The Great Ocean Road. This time will be about keeping my blog current with my many adventures.

So look out , OZ! I'm coming back with a vengeance! You tried to spit me out (twice, in fact) but like a boom-a-rang, I just come back. You may want to duck...

Winter Blues

It's Christmas Eve which means I have been home for 14 days. I knew it would take some time to adjust being home but wasn't prepared for how challenging it would actually be. The flight home was a journey as usual but hard to complain when you land right side up and walk off the plane. For the first time, I ventured upstairs on a 747 and was not disappointed. The cubbies next to the window seats alone are worth it. In addition, there are only 20 fellow passengers to share the lavatories and attention of the crew and best of all, no children. (Sorry, I realize we were all kids but there is nothing worse than being on a 15 hour flight with crying babies and/or obnoxious children who refuse to sleep.) Unfortunately, the trip was an extremely bumpy one and the seatbelt sign was on 70 percent of the flight. I did get to enjoy several movies - Inception, Eat Pray Love, Charlie St Cloud and Salt - along with several episodes of Big Bang Theory and Modern Family. Food was nothing special. We land on time, the line for immigration was fairly short and customs was a breeze. All in all it was a smooth trip (if you don't count the turbulence). I arrived in Reno with the kids and my sister waiting for me. All the mixed feelings of being home disappear for awhile as I am rushed by two very enthusiastic kids with arms outstretched. There is nothing quite like it! This time all bags arrived without delay and we were on our way to Taco John's. My company Christmas party was Friday and I debated for about 30 seconds about whether or not I wanted to stop by but 20 hours of travel doesn't translate into something I want to wear at an office party. 


After Jeni and the kids left, I just stood in the middle of my living room finding it hard to believe that I was home.


Flash forward... it is now New Year's Eve. Did you forget that I have ADHD?? And you wonder why there aren't more blogs...

Jack Frost nipping at your nose

Now I sit in my parent's living room looking at the hard frost outside and can't get excited about going back to Reno. I'm not one for making New Year's Resolutions and don't buy into the hype of celebrating a new year by getting drunk. I'll be in bed and asleep when the new year rolls around. But I am looking forward to see what 2011 has in store for me. I turned down moving to Australia for a year or more so there is no looking back. I will spend February in Australia to turn over the project reigns to someone new. Whatever happens, I want it to be a year of no regrets. 

Homeward Bound

Soon 'home' will no longer be an abstract word. It will be my reality, at least for awhile. As I was packing last night I tried to wrap my mind around not being in Australia. The past six months have been a whirlwind. It started slow but once the momentum picked up it was a blur and before I knew it, it was over. Funny thing though is I'm not sure I'm ready to leave. Like everything in life there are upsides and downsides in everything we do. On the upside, going home means seeing family and friends, sleeping in my bed, being able to shower without flooding the bathroom (don't get me started on the showers outside the US), my normal 'diet,' Directv and um... that's all I got. On the downside, I'm leaving Australia and all it has to offer. I was never bored. I could walk out my door, jump on a tram and explore. 


Now comes the real dilemma. Do I stay or do I go? I will be back in 2011. Whether it is to train someone to take over or if I chose, I can stay up to two more years. It's a tempting offer  but a lot to consider. This is one of those times a crystal ball would really come in handy. So with some trepidation I pack up my apartment and return to my real 'home.' 

People (And I'm not talking about the People in Streisand's song!)

People. You know the ones I’m talking about. The People who cut you off when you’re driving, the ones who get in the express line with more than 10 items, or don’t acknowledge you for holding the door open... Or the one who is constantly pressing his knees into your backside on the plane. (Let me clear up any misconceptions that it is some poor bloke who rivals Andre the Giant. Trust me; this guy could be Billy Barty’s slightly taller younger brother.) The People who – in general – don’t think the rules apply to them. How many times in a day do we shake our heads and think ‘People!’ Of course, none of us are that type of People right? Well, I can’t speak for everyone but I can honestly say that I am – without a doubt – NOT one of those. People that is. I like to think I’m not your average ‘it’s all about me’ type People. In fact, I’m going to state unequivocally that I am the rarest of People. The kind that remembers I am not the only person on this planet so it is rarely, if at all, about me.   

Okay need to rant about something just for a moment... think of it as a commercial... I know that we, as people have lost some of our ability to communicate due to the convenience of technology. Spell check is one. But, I ask you, how do you look up a word you don’t know how to spell? [Note: it occurred to me to try Google and you know what? Google is a much better guesser than spell check – awesome!]

Where was I? Oh yeah, it’s coming back to me (the knees in the back are a great reminder). So I wonder when ...

... I’ll get around to finishing this blog. I started this on a Qantas flight from Sydney to Melbourne back on 30 September. A lifetime ago.

Fast forward to today, 17 October. While I was playing dodge the People [those who do not stay on the left-hand side of the sidewalk] I was reminiscing about People in Australia and remembered I never finished this blog. It’s about time that I did.

Anyway, I hate to break it to you, but Australians are People too! It is annoying to hear stories about Ugly Americans from a group of people that generally, are no better – in fact, I’d argue they are sometimes worse – than Americans. Of course, you will think I’m biased. Mind you this is coming from someone who thinks People are annoying regardless of race, sex, ethnicity, gay or straight, fat or skinny, tall or short [you get the picture] so rest assured it is coming from someone who does not discriminate! The three bad habits of Aussies are in no particular order: they do no hold the door open (and if you hold it for them, they do not acknowledge), they do not clean up after themselves, and they don’t keep to the left unless they are driving. So while I agree there are Ugly Americans, lest us forget there are Ugly Aussies (Kiwis, Brits, Canadians, etc.) as well. We Americans aren’t like all the idiots on TV and I admit there are some really, really bad mannered representatives of the US on reality shows (most of which I refuse to watch) but even the best one – The Amazing Race – has had its fair share of dumb asses who shout at Chinese cab drivers when they don’t speak English. HELLO! You are in CHINA. They speak CHINESE. You need to learn CHINESE; they do not need to learn ENGLISH to speak to a stupid American in their own country! Get it? They obviously don’t because every season it happens to some poor cab driver who doesn’t have a clue why they are yelling at him. Hmm... I guess I can understand why the world thinks of us as Ugly afterall.

On the other hand, Aussie dogs – they are the best behaved dogs in the world. I have yet to have one jump on me, sniff me, or hump my leg. The do not bark and they mind their master. And they are rarely on a leash! Too bad the children don’t listen as well (as witnessed earlier today on the tram when a mum told her daughter to leave her coat on, not once, not twice, but at least five times. Of course, she removed her coat and it fell to the floor and was kicked and stepped on. Gee, mom does know best!

I know what you’re probably thinking... I waited for weeks for this?! Is this the best you can do? And the answer is yes.